Watch and Learn
by Yma
Summary: AU set a world where mutants are slaves. The last chapter! Finally, with victory at hand, Kurt and Logan discover that their goal is not what they thought, Psy has changed the game rules and they are forced to make a huge decision! FINISHED Please RnR!
1. The Mutant

Watch and Learn

By Yma

NOTES:

A whole load of notes here, but all of them are important, so please read.

            RATING: PG-13+ 

OK, that sounds odd, but trust me. This story isn't severe enough to warrant R, and thus exile to a dark corner of FFN, but it is perhaps a tad more adult than some other PG-13 fics. You have been warned. If you read this and honestly have problems with the content, then let me know and I'll move it to the R section. 

            Disclaimer: Not mine just borrowed to have fun with. Don't worry; I'll give it back when I'm finished, so long as I don't loose it behind the couch or something… This disclaimer not only applies to this chapter, but to all following it.

Also: This first chapter is the wonderful Scribbler's work, as it's a reply to 'Nutter's Fan-fic challenge. For details visit Nutter's site. The title of this will become clear only at the end.

PLEASE REVIEW! I CHERISH MY REVIEWS! I'll love you forever! The more reviews I get, the faster I'll post the next chapters!

Enjoy… 

Chapter 1: The Mutant

            The crowd roared tumultuously, and their stamping feet and pounding fists made the flimsy wooden benches shudder and creak.

            Every now and then they'd stand up as a single mass of flailing bodies, and the struts holding the tiers in place let out breaths of dust that betrayed the strain being put upon them.

            The object of their excitement stood sedately in the centre of the caged arena. He was, to all intents and purposes, asleep on his feet. Certainly, his eyes were closed, and he cradled one arm - clearly broken - against his bare chest like a slumbering child.

            There was no outward acknowledgement of the mob, though a thin sheen of sweat veiled his brow in the close atmosphere of the tent.

            Across from him another man breathed hard and glared openly. He was a bristle of muscles, hair and a pair of ripped Levis, and when he tossed his head he sent a shower of droplets onto the mesh of the cage surrounding the ring.

            The crowd shouted again, becoming annoyed at the lack of action. Sprays of popcorn laced the air along with their irritated cries.

            "Hey, I ain't paid five dollars to see this crap!"

            "Get the lead out!"

            "Beat the fucker into oblivion!"

            "Pound 'im!"

            "What you waitin' fer? Gold edged invitation?"

            "Come on!"

            Levi-man turned and waved to his public. He was greeted by a verbal surge of approval. Obviously, he was favorite to win, and he reveled in the praise received, all the time keeping one eye fixed on his strange opponent.

            For his part, the other man did nothing. The only sign he was even still conscious came from the rise and fall of his chest, and the blinking red light on his restraint collar. He was well-muscled, and the copious scarring across his face and bare chest told their own story of how many fights like these he'd been in. And won. He had to have won. That was the only way he was still alive now.

            Levi-man gave one last salute to his adoring public and dove right in. He left no room for hesitancy, ploughing forward with all the speed and stature of a freight train. He intended to power into his opponent and knock his off his feet while he wasn't looking, and with any other person he probably would have succeeded.

            But this wasn't just any old person.

            Faster than the eye could see, Levi-man switched from running across the ring to flat on his back with a hand pressed firmly to his throat. It happened so quickly he barely had chance to register the sudden change in altitude, let alone the strong grip cutting off

his airway.

            The crowd went wild.

            "Gettim!" one of them screamed.

            "Don't let the mutie bastard win, you scmuck!" yelled another, equally outraged.

A woman in plaid stood up and threw something. It rattled against the cage mesh, revealing itself as a rock.

            The rest of the mob took up the game, hurling anything that came to hand at the wire. A thousand whips cracked simultaneously as empty drink cans, pieces of brick, wood and mortar, plus an array of other, more exotic missiles bounced off the cage.

            The mesh wasn't as close-knit as perhaps it could've been, so it was naturally only a matter of time before something got through. As it happened, that something was a set of keys someone had thrown in a moment of madness, and the sharp edge caught the fighter with a broken arm a glancing blow. A thin cut opened up next to his eye, and his face went wild with pain and rage.

            Levi-man didn't know which emotion to swing for when the crushing pressure on his neck let up. He was grateful, sure, but also very wary of what the other fighter was now doing, and found himself breathlessly backing away into the corner.

            The first few rows of audience members leaned back as the enraged fighter slammed against the mesh, a fury of snarling teeth and angry eyes. He clawed at the netting, slicing his fingers but heedless of the pain. In fact, it only served to madden him further, and he literally started climbing the cage wall in an attempt to get at the jeering crowd.

            It was difficult to believe that this eruption of rage and pure, raw animalism was the same man who, only moments ago had seemed as peaceful as a sleeping babe. Even more so when he let out a feral growl to equal that of any untamed beast.

            The handlers ran forward and thrust long metal poles tipped with wicked spikes through the mesh, but he batted them away easily and continued climbing. The cage wasn't exactly made of adamantium, and the wall started the buckle outwards as he

pounded against it. Even with the restraint collar on he was strong enough to do some severe damage. The adrenaline coursing through his system from the fight made him howl and he glared openly at the crowd, gnashing his teeth.

            Several people screamed, and a few even went running for the exits. Chaos was about to break out if someone didn't do something. And fast.

            One of the handlers reached to his waist and withdrew an object that looked not unlike a mobile phone. Frantically he tapped at the buttons, then held it out towards the fighter gone wild like a weapon. The mutant screamed once, pawing at his throat, and then fell. He hit the ring with a dull thump and lay moaning.

            A man in a suit emerged and held up his hands for silence. Martin Buckelheim chewed on the expensive brand of cigarette permanently dangling from his lips and waited for some semblance of quiet to return before speaking.

            "Ladies an' Gennelman," he boomed, not needing a megaphone to be heard. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, Ah'm afraid today's fight has been postponed indefinitely."         There was a chorus of boos, and he nodded grimly at them. 

            "If y'all just go to th' ticket office, ya can get yer money back less tax. Sorry for th' inconvenience, an' Ah hope y'all can come again some time. Ya know how much Ah like to see your smilin' faces."

            "More like the faces of presidents on our money!" quipped one of the throng.     Others laughed half-heartedly, but Martin said nothing. He backed down to a series of curses and insults, but the crowd grumbled away to the ticket booths to retrieve their cash, minus tax, of course. It was an odd thing to say, since mutant battles like this one weren't rare, but were most certainly illegal and so not taxed in the slightest. Usually the authorities never found out, since they only lasted until the mutant attraction in question gave up the ghost and died. Usually in a blaze of glory in the ring against some opponent or other. Then the entrepreneur who'd owned it moved on to pastures new.

Buckelheim's arena was special because his mutant just kept on kicking no matter how hard it got beat up. A real spitfire, as the posters said. The audience knew that he'd live to fight another day, and that they'd probably come back to see him do it, too. If nothing else, Buckelheim's mutant always delivered.

            Martin let them all leave before finally transferring his gaze to the arena. He jerked a thumb at one of the handlers, who snapped to attention and let Levi-man out of a side opening in another, undamaged wall. He was given a precursory audience, in which time he managed to swear and curse fifteen times and in fifteen colourful different ways.

            He seemed about to say more when Martin waved him away. He hadn't lost the fight, but he hadn't won either. The rules were simple. You win, you get the prize money advertised on the flyer. You lose; you most likely end in up hospital or worse. Levi-man found himself escorted out by his lapels.

            Only when everyone bar himself and the two remaining handlers had gone did Martin at last ascend the creaky wooden steps and enter the ring himself. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, watching the fallen mutant with one eyebrow raised. Nothing was said, and silence reigned between them. It was a dangerous, unprotected position to be in.

            Not that the mutant in question was capable of doing anything much at the moment. The inhibiting abilities of the collar were still active, and an angry red burn was clear spanning the circumference of his ample neck.

            Martin cleared his throat. "Well, Ah hope you're happy wit yo'self," he drawled. "You just cost me a whole lotta money in sales, mutie. Not to mention cash for damages. That cage weren't easy to make, y'know. Things like that don't come cheap these days."

            The mutant opened one eye and grunted. "Go to hell."

            "Shuddup," Martin replied, drawing back a foot and kicking him squarely in the stomach. The mutant didn't try to fight back.

            He'd learned a long time ago that to fight back only meant more pain later. Pain with the collar on, too, which made it ten times worse.

            Martin kicked him once more, for good measure, and then stood back, brushing a few greasy strands of hair out of his face. "Ah dun' told you before. No talkin' unless Ah say so. S'bad fer business an' yo' health." He hunkered down and squinted at his bread-and-butter. "So why'd you wimp out on the fight, mutant? Not like you."

            That's because I'm usually imagining that it's your neck I'm wringing. But he stayed his tongue.

            Martin frowned. "Less of the funny stuff. Now Ah'm tellin' ya to talk, mutie. You let that guy go just when you had 'im beat. Ah know you. You ain't never backed down like that 'afore. Now Ah'm askin' ya, why?"

            No answer. Martin reached for the collar control device at his belt with deliberate slowness.

            "I'm not a performing monkey."

            The answer, apparently, didn't please Martin, and he swept to his feet with a puff at his cigarette. "That so? Seems to me yo' getting' a little too big for yo' boots, boyo. You fight when Ah say to fight, y'unnerstand?"

            A growl. "Get bent."

            That really didn't please him. "Ok then. Seems you need re-educatin' some. Chug, Goldo, help our friend here back into his cell. Do not deactivate the collar to let him heal until I give the say-so, and do not feed 'im. We'll see how co-operative he is after a night of that."

            Chug and Goldo did as they were bid, albeit after waiting for their employer to leave. They were big, heavy men, probably with a handful of brain-cells between them. At some point or other they must have been in the military, because they clicked their heels together and saluted smartly as Martin went past as if he was some kind of general.

            The mutant looked on, uninterested. He'd seen many handlers come and go in his time. None of them ever impressed him, and he closed his eyes as soon as Martin was out of sight, not for the first time wondering where he'd gone wrong to get himself lumbered with a schmuck like that.

            Footsteps. Evidently Chug and Goldo weren't wasting any time following orders.           He sighed. Guess he'd have to bear the pain of their manhandling. Come morning he'd be allowed to heal again, as much good as it would do him. Somehow recovery in this place was more of a curse than a blessing.

            A curious sound suddenly reached his ears, dulled as they were by the collar. Like the pop of a lighted splint placed in pure oxygen. He briefly considered opening his eyes to see what it was, but simultaneously deemed it too much effort.

            Probably just one of those idiots lettin' one off.

            Then an even more curious noise came from nearby. It sounded like light, pattering footsteps, and the floor of the ring vibrated against his face. One of the heavies - Goldo, it sounded like - cried out, and there was the distinct sound of a smart punch and a

body falling.

            What the - ?

            The second handler, Chug, shouted; "What the hell....? What are you? How the hell did you get in?"

            Whomever that was directed at didn't answer, and Chug yelled something else unintelligible. His feet thudded loudly on the canvas as he evidently ran forwards, and that odd 'pop' came again, closer this time.

            This time, the mutant opened his eyes, and was just in time to see something small and.... blue drop from above onto his handler. 

            Whatever it was kicked out a foot, which caught Chug on the side of his jaw. He went flying into the wire mesh of the cage, and slid down, out for the count.

            The blue thing landed delicately into a crouch that would've made a gymnast proud, and scuttle on all fours toward him. The mutant struggled slightly, instantly mistrustful and ready to fight whatever his condition or incarceration.

            A heavily accented voice attempted to soothe him, and it took a moment to realise that it came from the blue shape. "Shhhh, mein Freund. I'm here to help you."

            Soft hands touched his neck, brushing against the collar. The defence mechanism kicked in and gave them a sharp shock.

            "Scheisse, what was that? Ach, never mind. We can deal with this thing later. Right now, the most important thing is to get you out of here."

            "Who are you?" he asked.

            Those same hands looped around and under his chest, hauling him up with no small amount of grunted effort to his feet. The mutant felt something long and serpentine snake around the backs of his legs, keeping them vertical. As his head flopped forward

he saw it was a spaded tail, blue, and completely covered in a fine carpet of velvety fur.

            "I'm a friend. That's all you need to know at the moment," said the voice. 

            A lungful of air sucked through teeth, and it sighed dejectedly. "Usually I prefer not to use violence. Doesn't do our credibility much good, ne? But I couldn't just let them carry on like that."

            Comprehension dawned directly. "You're a mutant."

            "Catch on fast, don't we?"

            He snarled, and felt the arms twitch.

            "No need for that. Ja, I'm a mutant, just like you. Which is primarily the reason I'm busting you out of here. Places like this are a sick excuse for entertainment. I only go to them to liberate the attractions."

            "You gonna give me your name, kid?" For a kid it was indeed. His tone was too flutely to be fully mature, and his frame was spindly and possessed a gawkiness that had nothing to do with his mutation.

            "Depends. You going to give me yours, mein Freund?"

            He blinked. His name? It'd been a long time since anybody asked him that.        

"Logan."

            "Kurt Wagner."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. The Escape

Watch and Learn By Yma

Well that bit was Scribbler's start, the following is where I took off. 

Again: Rating PG-13+ 

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, they're just borrowed. 

Please review if you liked this. The more I get, the faster I post! And I'll cherish them too… 

Chapter 2: The Escape

            "Well, Kid," he grunted, "if you gotta way out of here, use it, unless you wanna stick around for tea 'n cakes?"

            "You still have a sense of humor? Das ist gutt, the animal hasn't taken over yet then."

            "Wouldn't bet on it, kid."

            The Mutant thought he caught a shadow of a smile on Kurt's face, and saw his glowing eyes close, a look of concentration twisting his features, before the entire world dissolved into nausea.

            Being kicked in the gut whilst falling from a great height. That was the only metaphor that went even half way to describing the sensations that ran through the mutant's body as the 'popping' sound filled his ears and the strange stink of brimstone filled his nose. 

            When he finally recovered enough to open his eyes he found that they were no longer in the arena, but outside.

            Outside, under cold, bright stars, in a dark back alley, the light breeze tickling his raw skin, the scent of smoke, vomit, old food and piss permeated even his desensitized nose. It was the most wonderful feeling he had experienced for a long time. He took a breath of fresh of outside air, enjoying its cool tang, relishing the scent of freedom. Then he coughed and winced in pain. Damn, he must have cracked a few ribs in the fight, fantastic. 

            He became aware that his was not the only heavy breathing. Ah yes, Kurt.

            Now he was in a position to, Logan took the time to study his would-be rescuer further. The kid was indeed blue, a dark, rich blue that seemed to melt into the shadows around him. His legs were odd, like a cat's, and his eyes were liquid gold, seeming to glow with an inner light. His ears were pointed, as were two of his front teeth, giving them a fanglike appearance. The entire effect made him seem almost demonic, if it wasn't for his voice, a soft, gentle thing, the usually harsh German accent actually softening the syllables, no evil monster could have a voice like that. No, Logan decided, he was reminded more of carvings of goblins or elves from old folk lore, slender, mischievous, tricky. This elf, however, was hardly dressed red and green, he wore a simple black turtleneck and trousers, both of which had seen better days, but which were still serviceable. Around his middle was a belt upon which various strange tools hung, and on his back was a small rucksack, containing God knew what. 

            The boy had curled up around Logan, his grip tightened to a desperate grasp, he looked more than a little nauseous himself, his breath somewhat ragged. In the gleam of moonlight he saw the glint of blood trickling down from his nose.

            'Ach,' gasped the boy, seemingly oblivious to Logan's scrutiny 'you're heavier than you look. That rule's out Jaunting, we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way.'

            'Huh?'

            'Jaunting, teleportation, it's what I do, but it takes energy, more than I have at the moment.'

            Logan nodded, but as he moved his head the world sudden became even darker, fuzzy confusion assailed his senses, his knees started to give way.

            'No you don't!' scolded Kurt, shaking him, 'verdammt, you big lug, I'm not strong enough carry you either! Not and remain inconspicuous. Come on, talk to me, ask me questions, but stay conscious.'

            'Ughh,' grunted the mutant, trying to take Kurt's advice, slowly the litter filled street and star lit sky came back into focus. 

            'Sur gutt,' congratulated Kurt as he began to stand up straight again, 'now, we're going to need to do some walking, I'll hold you up, but we're going to need to stick to the shadows, Ja? I'll talk to you to keep you lucid, concentrate on my voice and stay awake.'

            'Whatever,' rasped Logan, still hardly believing this was happening. 

            This was bizarre, one moment he was an animal in a cage, the next… To be truthful, it was not so much the physical pain that was causing him to black out, but the sheer shock of the situation. He was free. After god knows how many years of hell… he was free.

            For now at least, anyway. Freedom was a subtle and fleeting concept, hard to capture, even harder to hold onto, he had tasted its sweet draft many a time, only to have it snatched away from him later. Currently he was trusting his life to a kid, one with a highly visible mutation, too. Poor bastard. 

            Logan tried desperately to concentrate both listening to Kurt and on putting one foot in front of the other. It was more difficult than he had expected. 

            At several times darkness almost overcame him again, and Kurt's merry prattle, mostly about the weather and favorite foods, seemed to fade away. But Logan was always a survivor, always a fighter, he didn't give in easily.

            The night streets seemed to pass by like ghosts, Logan's concentration being taken up by walking and staying conscious, he had no opportunity to admire the scenery. But he gathered that they stayed to the back streets, keeping to the deepest shadows, his companion's soft fur seeming to melt within the velvet darkness. 

            'You're doing well,' congratulated Kurt, keeping his voice to a breathy whisper.

            'Would be easier if this goddamn collar was off,' rasped Logan, keeping his unfocused eyes firmly ahead of him.

            'Don't worry about that,' Kurt assured, 'I know a few men who have a way with machinery. We'll get that thing off you, though I've never seen it's like before.'

            'What can I say? I'm special. Nice footwork back there, by the way, looked like you've been trained.'

            'Danke, I learnt some acrobatics at the circus.'

            'God,' gasped Logan, pity filling his heart, 'I… I'm sorry. That ain't no place for a kid to grow up.'

            'Vas?' asked Kurt, looking totally confused, and then light dawned on his face, 'nein! Nein! It wasn't like that. I was brought up in the circus, by Romani, they treated me as one of them, I was never a freak. In fact, I was one of their star acrobatic acts! The Incredable Nightcrawler! That's what they called me. The best days of my life, back then, just goes to show… Not all humans are out to get us, you know. Some of them aren't so bad… and here we are!'

            Logan blinked at the last of this, and found that they had stopped. This alley, with its unwholesome smells, dark, graffiti coated walls, and rubbish laden pavement was not much different to the thousands of other streets they had passed and traveled through, except this had a large manhole cover. 

            Kurt propped Logan up against one dirty wall, whilst he struggled with the heavy and stained disk. Grunting in effort, using both arms and tail, he dragged the cover off, wincing at the loud scraping sound it made across the tarmac, revealing the dark tunnel that led, most probably, into the sewers.

            He stood back, admiring his handy-work and considering his next move. 

            'You can't climb down with that broken arm,' he murmured, 'you're too heavy for me to carry, and simply throwing you down there is out of the question. That just leaves Jaunting, ach, I'm going to regret this later!'

            He knelt down onto his knees, and stuck his head down into the darkness, as if trying to peer into it. Then he straightened up and, brushing dirt from his clothes, moved back to Logan's side, and once again wrapped his arms around him.

            'Why didn't you just teleport us down there before?' asked Logan, 'you wouldn't have needed to move that sodding big hunk of metal then.'

            'I need to see or visualize where I'm going,' explained Kurt, 'I don't want to 'port us far, and I don't know that passage very well, so I needed a peek.' 

            'Hold on now,' warned the teleported, 'this one's going to be rough, and I'll need you to stay awake, if only to keep me lucid too! Gott, this is going to wreck!'

            A few seconds and one 'pop' later, his point was proved.

            Stumbling into the wall, and using it to remain upright, Logan was, perhaps for the first time in his life, supremely glad of Martin's treatment of him. Had he not been wearing the collar he would have had his acute sense of smell at his disposal, not a good thing in a sewer, and if he had eaten recently… well, let's just say he would have been able to add his own special brand of mess to the already foul slime beneath him. 

            The elf, however, seemed unconcerned with the mess or stench; he was crouched over in the slime, his entire body shivering like a leaf, blood falling from his nose in a veritable crimson waterfall, mixing in vivid swirls with the brown-green liquid beneath him.

            Summoning all his strength Logan pushed himself away from the slime coated wall, moving nearer to the recovering Kurt. 

            'You OK kid?' he asked.

            'Ja… ja… I, uh… be alright… uh… in a… minute.'

            He swung his head back, pinching his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. There was a look of extreme concentration on his fuzzy features, though whether this was the battle to stay conscious, or something else, Logan could not say.

            After a few moments Kurt struggled to his feet, only just stopping himself from trying to brush sewer slime off his trousers.

            'Don't worry Herr Logan,' he assured, 'help is on the way, we won't have far to go, either. Just stick with me. Do you think you can walk without help for a bit? I need some time to recover myself.'

            'Yeah,' replied Logan, moving away from the wall a little way, getting used to putting his entire weight on his feet again, 'which way?'

            Kurt, using the wall for support much like Logan, staggered down the dark, slime covered floor, trying not to breathe in too deeply. 

            For a while there was no noise except for the squelch of their footsteps, their ragged, shallow, breathing, and the sound of trickling water.

            Suddenly another sound reached Logan's ears. He acted as he always did, with instinct. One hand shot forward and pushing Kurt down.

            'Down elf!' he commanded, setting himself into a fighting stance, trying to ignore the pain and wariness that threatened to overcome him. He wished he had access to his claws, but the restraint collar kept them sheathed within his body, useless.

            The darkness of the sewers, lit only by the occasional yellow, dim and flickering service lights, was nearly impenetrable to Logan, but he could hear well enough.

            The sounds became louder, a regular squelching, like something was… was… jumping towards them. He had to admit it was quite puzzling, but he wasn't taking any chances. 

            Out from the gloom it emerged, leaping towards them on long, gangly but powerful legs, and Logan let out a hiss of shock, disgust and pity.

            It… no, he, looked human enough, indeed in some lights he might have passed as a boy of about Kurt's age, his form being basically humanoid, if slightly hunched. But there the resemblance ended. Long, greasy brown hair fell from his large scalp; some of his skin was a yellowish, sallow color, but the rest… 

            Half the skin on his face was a mass or postulating sores, red, raw, oozing. His left eye was all but swollen closed, the right was slightly too large, it's iris a dull yellow. Most his lip was missing, or was nothing more than a bloody, black line, and the raw skin that covered half his face seemed to stretch all the way down his neck. The rest of his body was mercifully covered in clothing; a similar costume to Kurt's, in fact, though much more ragged and spotted with innumerable stains.

            In his twisted hands, nails non-existent, fingers over-long, the skin black, blistered, covered in scars, pustules, or warts, was a large gun. 

            At the sight of Logan he raised the weapon, his stance becoming defensive. Calculations ran as fast as lightening through his mind… could he avoid the shot? Would he be able to grapple the gun away from the boy? Should he run? Should he surrender? And What of Kurt? 

TO BE CONTINUED…

PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. The Sewers

Notes:

Rating: PG13+

Disclaimer: The setting is not mine, the characters aren't mine, they belong to Marvel et al, I'm just borrowing them for fun.

Other: This story is AU, and there are Reviewer Replies at the end. 

Chapter 3: The Sewers

            But one of these questions needed answering as, at that moment; Kurt's voice rang out in the echoing tunnels.

            'Chill dudes! We're all friends here!'

            'Kurt!' cried the… boy. 'Man, yo' sure know how to make an entrance. Take it this is your latest stray, come with puppy dog eyes an' wagging its tail behind him right? Oh no, sorry, that's your job.'

            'Ha ha,' said Kurt sarcastically, picking himself up out of the muck once again and shaking his body, attempting to get the filth off this clothes. 

            'His name's Logan,' he continued, 'Logan, meet Todd, AKA Toad, AKA, the slimy annoying scab.'

            'Oh, I wouldn't be dissin' me now, yo'. Yo' should be grateful I was roun' here, got that message yo' sent the boss man. Boy, is he mad, yo' gonna have your hide nailed to the wall when yo' get back. Please tell me yo' knocked off a few flatscans this time? Please tell me yo' brought somethin' back other than 'nother mouth to feed?'

            'Sorry,' apologized Kurt, 'but I could hardly leave him there, and you know how I feel about killing! Anyway, he looks like a fighter, if that's any help.'

            Todd rolled his eyes, or rather one eye; it was hard to tell what the other one was doing under its swollen lid.

            'Kid's got a gun,' remarked Logan, not sure what else to say at this junction, 'why ain't you got a gun, Kurt.'

            'Cos Kurt,' said Todd, before the kid could answer for himself, 'is what we technically call a soft hearted wimp. He won't kill, cries at the sight o' blood an' that shit, won't even nail a flatscan in defense!'

            'Shuddup!' growled Kurt, a tinge of anger in his voice, 'just because I've got some morels. Anyway, where's the next pad?'

            'Mile an' a half away, reckon yo' can make it that far?'

            'Not sure,' sighed Kurt, 'I Jaunted a lot back there, and twice with that big lump, I'm feeling pretty wrecked. Logan isn't much better either, his injuries are bad, not life threatening, but he may be too weak to make it that far, and I don't want stay down here too long, if only because of infection.'

            'Good thing I brought this then,' said Todd, bringing out a large chocolate bar from somewhere in his filthy clothing. 

            Kurt grabbed the bar so fast that Logan hardly saw him move. The wrapper was off in a trice and the elf was cramming sticky chocolate into his eager mouth, heedless of where it had been. It was a wonder he didn't make himself sick.

            'Todd,' he said between mouthfuls, 'you are a lifesaver. Wonderful. I love you for ever. Wanna marry me?'

            'Nah,' laughed the ugly boy, 'I have some standards, yo. 'Sides, you'd only be marrying me for my calories!'

            'Darn!' said Kurt, humor glinting in his eyes 'ah well, I'll live, though my heart may not! You cruel, cruel man!'

            'Can we hurry up!' snapped Logan, finally losing patience, 'I need to get this collar off me!'

            'Don't sweat it!' said Todd, hopping over and putting an arm round Logan's waist, 'Boss-man got a top guy ready for us, he'll be waitin' back at base. If he can't get that thin' off, no one can!'

            They started down the tunnel again, and the rest of the journey was a blur or pain and darkness to Logan. He was conscious of the two boys swapping him between them, each carrying him for a time before switching him over to their companion when they became weary. They talked too, quiet, cryptic, but friendly talk, banter mostly. From what Logan heard, he had to give them credit, they knew how to keep secrets, and they talked much of various things and events without mentioning names or details. 

            The one moment of clarity in that subterranean journey occurred near the end, when Kurt was once again swapping him over to Todd. The mutilated boy was having a little trouble in getting a firm grip on the semiconscious Logan, and Logan tried to help by putting one arm round Todd's neck. However, in doing so he accidentally brushed the festering skin on the side of Todd's face.

            The boy gave a savage hiss of pain, let go of Logan and instinctively rocketed away, back against one of the walls. 

            Diving forward, Kurt caught Logan before he fell fully into the sewer muck.

            'You OK Todd?' he asked.

            'Yeah,' replied the boy in question, 'he just caught a bit of skin, is all. Just got a bit shocked.'

            'Sorry,' grunted Logan 'didn't mean to.'

            'S'OK, now come on and let me carry you, an' mind the face this time!'

            True to his word, Todd's arms were soon round Logan again, propping him up and aiding him to walk down the passage.

            Eventually Logan's curiosity got the better of him.

            'Uh… kid… Todd… um… what happened to your face?'

            Todd was silent for a bit, as if considering how to answer, Kurt shot him a concerned look, but said nothing.

            'My skin,' Toad began, 'the part that isn't covered in crap, it's soft, sensitive. Ain't that pretty to look at, but it feels nice. Lotta women would kill for skin soft as mine. When I was captured, the flatscans, the humans, decided to put it to use. Yo' heard of cosmetic animal testin'? Well, I went through cosmetic mutant testin' Dolled me up real nice in makeup, took chunks outta me, to see how my skin got so good. Some of the makeup, though, it don' go so well with my skin, came out like this. Luckily I got broken out 'fore they burned it all off.'

            Logan remained silent after that, not sure what he could say that would mean even the slightest thing to the scarred boy. 

            'Sorry,' he said at last, wishing he was more eloquent.

            'S'OK,' replied Todd lightly, 'I wasn't that pretty even before the experiments, so looks don' bother me. The pain's… well… a pain, but I can live with it. Mind you, if I ever meet the guy's who did this too me, I'll burn their faces off, see how much they like it.' 

            Eventually they seemed to reach the destination. Underneath one of the sewage pipes, continually gushing dirty water, there was a small side passage, which led to a dead end. Or so it appeared.

            Handing Logan back over to Kurt, Todd felt one of the slimy walls with his sensitive fingers. He soon found what he was looking for, a small, brown button, hidden expertly against the aged wall and dark muck.

            When he pressed it the wall blocking the passage shimmered and faded away, revealing yet another chamber.

            Strange machine took up the entirety of the room beyond; it consisted on one large console, and an odd, squat cylinder with numerous wires and pipes sticking out of its rusty bulk. Finally, taking up the majority of that small area was a platform, also rusted, and covered in algae and slime. However, it looked like someone had made and effort to clean it, wiping away the worst of the muck off from the tubes, wiring, LED's and other delicate parts.

            'Oh man!' cried Kurt, 'don't tell me this is the 'pad we're going to use! It's ancient, ready to fall apart!'

            'No it ain't,' snapped Todd, 'it was only built a year ago, jus' the atmosphere of this place isn't no good for it. Still works an' all, I used it to get over here.'

            Kurt's doubtful expression did not relent, and Logan himself found he had more than a few reservations about using the rusting mess of electronics. He'd never been fond of machinery, much less derelict hunks like this. 

            'Listen,' sighed Todd, 'you ain't got no choice, yo. The next 'pad is over a hundred miles away, an' most of that journey's over-ground, unless yo' thinking yo' can just 'port back to base. It's this or nothing.'

            'Ja,' sighed Kurt, 'I know, sorry. I just hate 'pad's, they don't feel natural.'

            His tail once again wrapping itself round Logan, Kurt hauled the short man over to the 'pad, and placed him upon it.

             'You OK?' he asked, taking time to check him over again.

            'Yeah,' gasped Logan, his breathing ragged with pain, 'I'll live… but what is this… pad?'

            'A teleportation pad, verdammt thing. We use them to get back to base, and they work just fine, but you're in for a rough ride, or I am anyway. Teleporting using anything but my powers generally isn't that much fun. To be honest, I'd rather Jaunt anywhere, nausea or no. Ah, Todd's finished working on the console, hold on tight!'

            Through pain dimmed sight Logan saw Todd jump onto the pad just as the hum of machinery and crackling energy filled his ears and light blinded his eyes.

            Then the world dissolved, or perhaps he did.

            It was as if he was a pill in a glass of water, being slowly eaten away, turning into bubbles, and being carried up, up to the top of the glass, where he reformed. Having said this, it was not an entirely unpleasant experience, strange, yes, but not unpleasant. The only pain came from his wounds, where the bubbling sensation seeming to tickle and stimulate the pain, causing Logan to hiss in agony, doing his utmost to stop himself letting out a full fledged bellow. 

            Eventually the world re-materialized about him, the humming and crackling sound died down, and he became conscious of a change in the air. The stink of the sewers had lessened somewhat, though the slime still sticking to his and his rescuers bodies ensured that it did not completely dissipate. The air was warm, too, if somewhat stale, the scent of metal and human sweat reached his nose. 

            His sense of sight was longer in coming, it took a while for the white fizzle of pain in front of his eyes to disappear, by the time it did he was once again being propped up by Kurt.

            His blurry eyes examined this new location. He was in a large room, behind him was a hunk of machinery and 'pad quite similar to the one he had just left, though this was a little larger. The walls, floor and ceiling were made of metal, dark, a little corroded, but still strong. It was lit by several, yellow, flickering lights which filled the room with shadows. There was only one, sturdily build and large door leading out of the chamber. Sitting on a wooden packing case near the door was a man.

            He looked to be about forty, lines of care wrinkling his dark skin, his raven hair shot through with streaks of grey. He wore a similar costume to Kurt and Todd, but his was somewhat better kept. What was more interesting about him was the machinery strapped and molded to various parts of his body. One leg and arm looked completely mechanized, and around his face, chest, and groin other metallic implants gleamed sickly in the dull light. Various intravenous tubes were attached to his skin, though nothing seemed to be being pumped into him at the moment.

            He stumbled forward, his cybernetic leg stiff and clunky.

            'This him?' he rasped, 'this the job?'

            'Ja, the collar, it isn't like anything I've seen before, gives out shocks, seems to be remote controlled, can you get it off?'

            The cyborg shuffled still closer, right up to Logan's face, though his eyes were scanning the collar around his neck.

            As he did so, more details became noticeable to Logan. The cyborg's skin looked unhealthy, too yellow, and clammy, his eyes were somewhat bloodshot, their pupils dilated. His hands twitched at his side, his every movement was jerky. He did not seem to be a healthy man.

            Murmuring to himself in a none-stop litany, the man studied the collar. 

            'This better not take too long, getting twitchy, need Rave soon, need medicine. So, what we got here then? What pretty trinket? Hummm… hummm… nice work, not seen before… or maybe… yes, have seen, is mine, yes, looks like my work! Wonder where? When? No, don't remember, don't need to. Better not to. So so so the right tools, the right tools, need them. Haven't got them, better get them. Wait, wait here, be back soon.'

            With this he scuttled away, moving surprisingly quickly despite his stiff leg.

            'Who was that?' asked Logan when he was gone.

            'That was Forge,' explained Kurt, 'he helped build this place, and the pads. He was one of the first mutants to be caught, too, was used by the government to make things. That's his talent, see, making things, figuring out how machinery works, very useful. He was rescued from American CIA many years back, they wanted to control him, to create weapons for them, so they put him on Rave. That's why he's so twitchy.'

            'Rave?'

            'A drug, performance enhancing and highly addictive. Forge has been on it for years, still needs to take it now, it's rotted away a lot of his body, hence the cybernetic implants. It's killing him slowly, both mind, body, and soul, but he can't get off it now, his system has become totally dependent.'

            'So,' sighed Logan, 'what you're saying is that I'm trusting my life to a hopeless drug addict.'

            'He may be that, yo,' put in Todd, 'but he's a genius too. That stuff ain't rotted his brain totally yet, if anyone can get yo' outta that collar, he can.'

            As if hearing their words, Forge shuffled back in, a huge steel box swinging easily in one mechanical hand.

            He gestured Kurt to sit Logan down on one of the backing crates, and, setting the thing down with a large 'clunk' he proceeded to root through the steel box, bringing out numerous strange implements. 

            'Defiantly my work,' mumbled Forge, 'yes, yes, know this, know this one, can't remember, but know. It'll be fine. Fine. What I can make I can unmake. I can create, I can break. I can, I can, I can. Make, break, unmake, break, make, create, unmake, break, create, make.'

            This strange chant continued as Forge's hands, now steady as a rock, flitted across the collar, touching, caressing, undoing screws, pressing small buttons, using strange and exotic tools. Several times he got a shock which caused him to hiss in pain, but always he returned to the collar, his hands working like spiders across it, fast, dexterous, sure. Still the mumbled chant continued, words whispered over and over again, exotic titles of various electronic components murmured like the names of lovers, self assurances, soft scolding when he did something wrong, and always the sigh that this was familiar, so, so familiar. 

            Eventually, with a gasp of exultation, and a soft click, Forge brought his hands away, the collar slipped off and fell onto the floor with a clatter.

            Logan blinked. That was it, done. For so many years, decades, he had worn that impeding necklace, that tortuous device. For most of his memory it had been gasped like a vice round his neck, making him a toy for various owners, for so long it had been his bane, his tormentor, his collar and chain, the thing he loathed the most.

            Now… now it was off. 

            He was free, truly, fully, free.

            His first thought was that this was not dramatic enough, there should have been fighting, and explosions, something impressive, not just a mad drug addict and a soft click. 

            His second was how cold his neck was, how light his shoulders felt without the familiar weight. Funny, he almost missed it. The thing that had kept him prisoner for so many years, he missed. 

            Any further thoughts were drowned out when his powers, released of the collar, slipped back into working order. 

            The sent of the room, no longer dulled, hit him full in the nose, almost overpowering him. His sight cleared, piercing the darkness of the room, allowing him to see every rivet in the mettle plating that made up the walls. His hearing did likewise; he became aware of Kurt's every breath, of the popping of one of Todd's pustules, of the creaking of Forge's implants. 

            It was all a little too much for him, and he found himself swooning again as he fought to bring his senses back under his control.

            Once again Kurt was by his side, holding him up with his soft, three fingered hand. 

            'Take it easy,' he murmured, 'we'll just get you to the med-lab and get you checked up, then you can rest.'

            'Don't need to elf,' grunted Logan, feeling the familiar buzz of healing factor rush through his body.

            Pulling himself from Kurt's grasp, forgetting his broken arm, he stretched himself out, moving every muscle, baring his chest.

            There was a snapping, twisting sound as his broken limb moved back into place, as the bones snapped together and were mended. The cuts, bruises and slashes on his skin disappeared in the winking of an eye, leaving nothing but a little faded scarring. The pain, at last, was gone.

            Logan gave a roar of triumph, screaming out his joy, and as he did so there was a 'shinkt' and a familiar, welcome sting in his knuckles as his adamantium claws shot out, deadly, shining brightly even in the dull yellow light.

            Both Kurt and Todd were stuck for words, but not so Forge.

            The cyborg pointed a trembling, metallic finger at Logan, his Native American features twisted in shock, his yellow-brown skin turning pale.

            'I remember you now!' he screeched, 'I remember you! You're him! You're one of the Three! The first of the Three! You're the Wolverine!'  

Reviewer Replies:

Ok, thanks to you all for reading this, it's much appreciated. This story might start off a bit slow, but trust me the end will be a roller coaster ride (hopefully, anyway.)

Eileen: Thanks for mentioning this in Nightscrawlers, fingers crossed Internutter's site gets back up soon, eh?

Gyuumajo: Glad you liking this, and yes that was Todd, (as you'll have read now,) and yes, there's *Plenty* more from where that came from.

Eaglerider: I've got reviews now! Thank you! If your finding this confusing please remember that a) that first posting was by two different authors b) the 2nd and 3rd chapter are actually one big paragraph, cut in half so that I could have chapters of more or less equal word length (though there will be exceptions) and c) this is very AU, and I don't want to be so contrived as to immediately state how everything's different, I'll let the plot do that for me… hehehe. But I'm glad you're interested. I look forward for more reviews by you (:

Telle: Will do!

ManniElf18: I like the German accent, glad you find this interesting, hope there's something else that's caught your attention here.

Kiki5: So glad to see you! You might have already read up to the end of this chapter, but probably not much further… I'm very glad you liked the detail, details can add a lot to a story. Please don't stop the reviews! I LOVE them!

Fantasy Cat: Usually, I'd be only too happy but the site itself is down at the moment. If you type in 'internutter' in Google then you should get some sort of link… When it comes up again, if I work out how to, I'll try to post some sort of link or something. Glad you're enjoying the story. 

Impulsive Thoughts: Sorry for not bothering with the mix of capital letters, but I get confused easerly. Yep, Spyke will be in this, and he'll have a largish part. So don't worry. I'm not a big Spyke fan, though I'd like to be, I find his character hard to understand, but hopefully I've done him some justice in this fic. Let me know what you think when he pops up.

DrasticSpaz: Glad you like it, and thanks for the complement. Don't you hang about on Nightscrawlers? I look forward to hearing more from you.

Hnh: Again, I'm glad you like. You make me happy with your happiness. YAY

Wow, that was long. Please note that, if you want to see the source of this work (I.e. the collection of Alternate Universes, one of which was this) go to Scribbler's work, you can find a link to her under my favorite author page. She's fantastic, well worth a look 

Because that was so long, I can't promise that all my following Review Replies will be as good, I don't really want to detract from the story too much. Anyway, see you next time and PLEASE REVIEW! 


	4. The MLF

Notes:

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 4: The MLF

            Wolverine.

            That name slung Logan's mind back through the years. Yes, that had been his first stage name, a different stage, to be sure, but a stage none the less.

            Before Spitfire, before Rabid, before Feral, before all those handlers and their names, he had been Wolverine, Weapon X.

            Todd let out a range of curses that would have made his mother faint.

            'Yo' got Wolverine!' he gasped between swear words, 'they been searchin' for him for ages an' yo' found him! An' yo' weren't even looking!'

            'Oh,' said Kurt, puzzlement etched in his fur, 'um… so… who is he again?'

            Todd slapped his forehead, 'God, yo' are back-water! Don't tell me yo' never heard of Wolverine!'

            'Um… the name does sound familiar but…'

            'Wolverine! The first of the Weapon-X mutants! The first to escape! The one who could take a gun shot to the head and get up the next mornin' wit nothing but a headache!'

            'Oh… _that Wolverine!... Oh Scheisse… I found Wolverine…'_

            'See what I mean? Shall we tell the bosses?'

            'I think- Augh!-'

            Kurt clutched his head in pain, as did Forge and Todd. Logan looked round in confusion, keeping his claws out. What the hell was happening? As suddenly as it had started, the pain seemed to dissipate and the three mutants righted themselves.

            'I think,' finished Kurt, 'that they already know. Damn, did he have to be so loud!'

            'Yeah, he must be well excited,' sighed Todd, 'come on, let's do as he says before he blows a blood vessel or something.'

            'Hold on, hold on,' interrupted Logan, 'I've been tugged and lugged around for long enough, and I want to know what the hell is going on. Who are you, what is this place, and what are you planning to do with me?'

            The two boys and Forge looked at one another, and back at Logan, now standing legs spread, arms crossed, and his demeanor showing no sign of weakness. 

            'We're the Mutant Liberation Front,' replied Kurt at last, 'I'm surprised you hadn't worked it out already, it's not as if the clues weren't there.'

            Logan frowned, yes, he had heard of them, heard of them though the ripped up newspapers left as rubbish on the floor, heard of them from the gossip of the guards and soft murmurings of the arena crowds, and the brief, fleeting glimpses of TV's. He hadn't guessed that they were his rescuers, though, that would have required hard thought, difficult when in large amounts of pain. It would have also needed him to trawl through his memories, an unpleasant experience. Indeed, for the last few years he had survived, remained sane, by purposefully not remembering things, but taking each day as it came, by dealing with each nightmare at a time, then putting it aside, ready for the next day's hell.

            The Mutant Liberation Front, a terrorist organization of rouge mutants. At first a mere annoyance to human authorities, it was now growing into a menace as each successful raid and attack rescued more mutants, swelling their ranks. It was led by a triad, their names… here Logan had to concentrate to remember… their names were Magneto, the founder, Psy, and Tempest. The latter of these had died fairly recently, in spectacular fashion, setting the MLF back a few steps, but it had more than recovered since then, and was now more of a menace than ever. 

            Now he thought of it, it made perfect sense that they had been his rescuers, but the entire event was odd none-the-less. To his knowledge the MLF usually concentrated its efforts on larger, more spectacular projects, things which would attract human attention. His rescue wouldn't cause a whisper in the press. Then again, judging from the previous conversations in the sewers, Kurt had been acting alone, a private rescue run, as it was.

So now the important question was what their leaders wanted him for, other than the obvious. 

_            "I'm not a performing monkey."_

            Those words came back to him, rang in his head, the truest he had ever said. Sure, he owed these guys a lot, and sure they stood for some good things, but at the end of the day he was free now. His days as a fighter, as an animal, were over, he wouldn't let anyone use him again. Ever.

            'As to where we are,' continued the elf, interrupting Logan's train of thought, 'well, we're at home base, Asteroid M, more information than that will have to wait until you see the boss's. That do you?'

            Wolverine nodded, 'then let's go meet them,' he grunted.

            'I'll come wit' you,' said Todd, 'I wanna see how this works out. You comin' too, Forge?'

            The druggie shook his head, 'got twitches,' he muttered, 'need my juice, need my Rave, see you later, sorry 'bout the collar, didn't have no choice but to make it, never choice, no choice.'

            Still muttering he stumbled out of the room, his footsteps clanking noisily down the hallway, going the opposite direction to which the two boys were now leading Logan.

            Down hard, mettle corridors they strode, each one more or less similar to the last, each lit by dim, flickering lights. Other people walked these corridors too, other members of the MLF. There was no real binding factor to them, most wore the same black clothes as Kurt and Todd, but a few were dressed in civvies. Some had physical mutations, but many did not, some bore obvious scars upon their skin, where as others showed their scars in their dead, cold eyes. Male and female, black, white, yellow, blue, green, a shifting mass of colors, a sea of homo-superior. The age range was the only thing that provided any linking factor, as most of the mutants appeared to be around Kurt's age or lower, there were very few of Logan or Forge's age. 

            Most of them ignored the trio, though a few spared him casual glances of interest, he got the impression that the arrival of new mutants was not an unusual event. Yet more evidence of the MLF's growing strength.  

            So absorbed was Logan in observing the passing inhabitance, he almost missed the one member that took real interest in him. 

            'Up to your old tricks again Wagner?'

            Kurt gave a sigh and actually scowled at the sound of that voice. It came from another mutant of Kurt's age, also with a physical mutation. He was covered, from head to foot, in bone spikes, a sort of carapace. His hard lips were twisted into a sneer, his eyes glinted with a strange, savage cruelty, which reminded Logan of the look Goldo or Chug wore when on a particular vicious beating session. Needless to say, he found himself disliking the boy from step one.

            'Hello Spyke,' drawled Kurt, 'what can I do for you today then?'

            'Do something? For me? Fuzz-butt, when the Bosses see that you brought another weakling home, with a zero body-count, I'd guess, they'll have to so shucked up on chores that you won't be able to do anything else for a year!'  

            'That's what yo' think, spiny,' put in Todd, 'but this guy-'

            'Clapp! Todd,' put in Kurt, holding a three fingered hand out, 'you don't need to defend me, I'm proud of what I did.'

            'Really,' asked Spyke, his smirk widening, 'well then, maybe you're punishment will be all the harder. Maybe the bosses will turn you over to me for punishment. I hope so, I know a few tricks I'd love to try out on your fuzzy hide.'

            'Then maybe we can bond later,' returned Kurt, his voice calm and level, 'but in the meantime I'm wanted in the main council chamber. So unless you want to be joining me in punishment I'd let us go.'

            Spyke glowered and stepped aside, allowing them to move past.

            'Dick,' commented Todd when they were away from the spiny boy, 'why didn't yo' tell him yo' found Wolverine?'

            'Are you kidding?' replied Kurt 'there are no cameras in that hallway, and when I tell him who this guy is, I want to see the look on his face. Again, and again and again…'

            Todd chuckled at this, but Logan was less pleased

            'I'm not a trophy,' he growled.

            'Ja, I know, and I don't mean to treat you that way, but let a guy have a bit of credit, OK? Spyke's been on my back since day one, I need to keep things even between us somehow.'

            Logan felt the rare tug of a smile twisting his lips, yes, this is how it should be.     Teenagers, kids, with their own little politics, not hate, not revenge, but little, petty things, mild versions of the extremes adults oft felt. It was good to see innocence, even this tiny amount. 

            When they reached the doors of the main council chamber Todd was forced to depart. 

            'The Boss's only want to talk to the newbie and Kurt,' growled the guard, a huge boy with a Mohican, 'sorry Todd, you ain't invited.'

            'Ahhh, no fair!' wined the Toad, 'I helped bring him back. Come on Freddy, lemme in!'

            'Sorry,' the guard, Freddy, replied, 'but orders are orders, maybe they'll wanna see you if you wait around?'

            'Nah,' sighed Todd, 'I guess I got things I better be getting' on with. See you guys later, OK? An' I want a full report, right? Yo' owe me for that chocolate, 'member?'

            'Sure Todd,' chuckled Kurt, 'see you around!'

            'See ya, kid!' grunted Logan, as the boy hopped away down the corridor. 

            When he had gone the guard tapped in a code on a key pad by the door, and ushered the two mutants in to the room beyond it. As soon as they had entered, the door swished closed behind them.

            Logan's eyes flitted around the room, taking in the bright lights that lit it, the large, steel table that sat at its center, the various computers which decorated the walls, and the two men who stood in front of them. Both of them exuded power and charisma, they dominated the large chamber. Magneto and Psy.

            The former of these was a tall, somewhat gangly man, with a crown of silver hair. His eyes were ice blue, blazing with an inner, cold, fire. His garbs were black and red, his jaw-line strong, everything about him spoke of an inner majesty, a king in bandit's garb.

            The second was more subtle, and yet it was his appearance which held Logan's attention, for he seemed familiar, like an old school friend, or a half remembered, distant relative.

            His costume was yellow and black, and he was somewhat shorter and stockier than his accomplice, but no less magnificent. His head was bare of even the slightest strand of hair, which accentuated his rounder face, and noble brow. His lips set in a straight line of concentration, and his eyes…

            Those orbs were dark, not the dark of coloration, for the iris was pale hazel, no; theirs was the darkness of a pit, the darkness of an abyss, ready to swallow up all who looked in them. Cold and hard as lumps of coal or jet, but hiding a strange, fierce flame also, vicious, somewhat cruel. Unquenchable. 

            Logan knew this man, though it had been many years since they had met, and much change had occurred since then. Yes, he could put a name to him, not a code name, not a title, but a real name, an identity.

            'Long time no see, Chuck,' he said.

            Charles Xavier did not smile at this, but merely glanced at his companion.

            'Is this him?' murmured Magneto.

            Xavier frowned, 'it seems to be,' he replied, 'but I will do a deep scan, just to make sure. We cannot risk any mistakes at this delicate junction.'

            'Hold on,' snapped Logan, 'I don't want any deep scan, my thoughts are my own and I ain't-'

            'You have no choice in the matter,' said Xavier, and, with but a thought, his mind rammed into Logan's. 

            He screamed, his head on fire, trying to fight Psy's probes desperately, but to little avail. He looked desperately to Kurt, but the elf just shrugged helplessly, his eyes giving all the apology needed, there was nothing he could do.

            Deeper and deeper the pain went, pushing through conscious thinking, into subconscious, into recall, short term then long, until it reached the target. Memories, recollections Logan had put aside long ago in the arena, back into the beginning, back in time, back into the concrete bunkers, adimantium bars, cruel guards, and the other stuff that made up his darkest nightmares. 

            Then he remembered, he remembered well and fully, and came to comprehend why he was hailed as the first of the 'three.

Reader's Replies.

Hi guys! Not so many of you this time, so I'm not afraid of giving full replies (: But I would like to see more reviews anyway…

One small note, read the chapter before you read your replies, I may mention things in this chapter that will give the game away. 

Telle: Sorry, there's gonna be quite a few cliffhangers here. Hope you can hang on! 

Eileen: Hi again! So glad you like the details and Kurt/Todd interaction, that was my favorite scene in this chapter too… though I like the Forge insane part as well… but then I like writing insane people… wonder what that says about me?

Saya-Sato: Sorry if Kurt is a little OC… I mean, he didn't appear terribly OC when I wrote it but… All I can say is this, bare three things in mind. 1: This story is mainly written from Logan's perspective, not his. 2: This is AU, Kurt has grown up a little different to Evo-Verse, so he might act a little bit oddly… 2: This is more of a plot driven story than character. I CAN do better characterization, see "Forgiveness" "Shattered Mirror" and "Screwed Up and Thrown Away," for some of my better characterization attempts. OK? I hope it gets better, anyway. Please stick with it, I value all feedback, including criticism. 

Skiltch: Glad to see you around! Well, know you know which of it is… it's BOTH! Bwa ha ha! Confused? Don't worry, more will be resolved soon.

Gyuumajo: I'm glad you're still enjoying his! Glad to see Todd's fanclub is running strong as well. I love Todd! I hope this update lived up to your expectations too, please review? 

And with those words… smell ya later! 


	5. The Triad

Notes:

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 5: The Triad

            Almost two decades ago things had been very different for mutants. Or most mutants, anyway. They lived in secret, alone, unsure of their powers or identity. Indeed, the word 'mutant' had not even been heard at that time. Then came Charles Xavier, a young, enthusiastic American Oxford student, a telepath of no small skill, and an eternal optimist. He had made a mistake that would shatter the lives of many in the coming years, a mistake that he would ultimately pay for as well. He discovered, proved and proclaimed the existence of mutants to the world, using himself as an example. At first, of course, he was hailed as a 'crack pot!' a mad man, a charlatan, but though dint of hard work, evidence and sheer persuasion he managed to prove the existence of his kind beyond any doubt. In his naivety he had expected rejoicing from the human populace, gladness, acceptance, but instead found fear, hatred, and paranoia. 

            Logan, ironically, was not captured because of Xavier's actions, he had been part of the governmental Weapon X project for months before the statements of Mutant existence, but the statement and knowledge did nothing to help him either. 

            Forge, also, had been known at that time, if only as a brilliant young inventor, rather than mutant scum. It indeed had been him who had created Wolverine's collar, and though he had refused to create more of the same types to inhibit other mutant powers, other Government scientists had been able to make fair replicates. Not as good as the original, but functional nevertheless, able to turn of mutant powers when worn.

            Three months after the announcements of Mutant existence, three months of press panic, vigilante groups, and lynching of anyone who seemed even remotely different, Charles Xavier was caught and brought to the Weapon X base. He was placed next to Logan's cell, and the thus the two men had met. 

            Xavier had been a very different man then. Enthusiastic, caring, passionate, intelligent, he spoke of hope, tolerance, and dignity. Even with the inhibitor collar on, he had been possessed of a unique empathy, a skill which drew out the hope and humanity even in Logan, bitter and animalistic that he was then.  

            Two more mutants came after him, a woman of the name Ororo Munroe, and a man called Hank McCoy. Thus then was their small group complete and Xavier deemed it time for an escape attempt.  

            The details of this need not be told, unimportant as they are to the grand scheme of the narrative, what was more vital was that it failed, though the four escapees got quite far, they were ultimately caught. And punished.

            Here the memories were most painful, here the images burned and stinged and blazed in Logan's mind.

            Each of them had been tortured in turn, in front of the other three. Xavier had suffered worst of all, for they had used machines to direct his telepathy straight into the victim, making Xavier share every ounce of pain, despair, suffering. It had nearly broken him.

            Hank had been lucky, in his own way, for the guards were too rough in his 'discipline,' and he had died half way through one agonizing session. 

            When those long nights of torment were over they were returned to their cells. Xavier being placed in the middle cell, with Logan upon the left and Ororo upon the right. 

            The project X managers, seeing that Xavier was the most potentially dangerous of the three, took special pains over his training, and from then on Charles rarely spent a full day inside his small prison.

            Logan remembered this well, the day after the punishment, despite his pain, Charles had remained full of defiance, anger, and passion.

            Two days later, when his 'programming' had begun, he became quieter, more thoughtful.

            Five days later his talks became more like rants, desperate plans for escape.

            Two weeks later Logan had heard him crying to himself at night.

            Three weeks: he spent most of each day and night in a depression, eating little, talking less.

            A month: he sobbed all the time now, and was seemingly oblivious to all Logan's and Ororo's calls.

            Six weeks: He came back from a 'programming session' a raging animal, killed three guards with his bare hands before being beaten into submission.

            Two months: Every day and night was spent in wakefulness, for them all, as Xavier screamed and raged at the bars of his cell, alternately begging, laughing, pleading, moaning, his sanity seemingly lost complexly.

            Ten weeks: Xavier was a robot, he said nothing, ate like a machine, did what the guards told him to. Never struggled, no matter what torment they put upon him.

            Three months: Logan made his escape, on his own this time, though he made a last, desperate plea to the broken man.

            Xavier given no word that he had heard Logan then, no sight that he was even aware of his existence, or of the escape being implemented, he had seemed dead to Wolverine, except… except…

            The last memory of Xavier reared up, the last time Logan had seen him, watching blankly though the bars of his cell, his once lively eyes dead and cold… unless… deep inside them, a flickering, desperate flame of life, a shadow of something dark, stirred.

            Of Ororo's training and breaking Logan could say little, he had seldom seen the woman, except on those rare occasions when she was dragged by his cell. 

            She had screamed a lot, he remembered, had begged not to be put back into the 'small room,' but this meant nothing to the wild man, so he ignored it. On the day of his escape she, alas, had been absent from her cell, and thus he had been unable to break her out also. 

            But he could make a fair guess that she had escaped, probably along with Xavier, after all, was not 'Tempest,' a fair name for a woman who could control the weather?

            Logan almost moaned in relief as the burrowing, burning pressure in his head abated, and he was able to slip out of the replayed memories, Xavier had finished the probe. He found he was shaking all over, his breath was rapid, fast, and he felt vaguely numb, removed, devoid of feeling. He wondered if this is what it felt like after being raped. Probably not, though it was still painful as hell.

            Xavier's voice spoke up, calm but faint, as if from a distance. 

            'There can be no doubt, this is him.'

            'Amazing,' said Magneto in a breathy whisper, 'I never imagined… we had been searching for so long… I had thought him dead, buried in an unmarked grave long ago. To find him now… and through coincidence, surely it is some sign of things to come, a good omen, perhaps?'

            'Ain't no good omen if I put these claws through your gullet, bub,' snarled Logan, unsheathing his claws.

            'I am sorry if I caused you any pain, Wolverine,' said Xavier, his voice smooth as silk, 'but it was necessary. You must understand that your sudden emergence, especially at this tender time, was somewhat of a shock, and extremely suspicious. You, of all people, must realize the importance of never underestimating the humans, it is a lesson we have both learned the hard way. Therefore I could not take any chances, could not allow for any spies in our midst.'

            'Indeed,' added Magneto, 'but now we have been assured of your identity, I bid you come sit with us, and be welcome. There is much we must share, many questions each of us want answering. For example, I would dearly like to know where you have been all these years?'

            Logan did not answer or accept straight away, instead he studied the two men in front of him, making quick calculations and decisions in his head. Despite Xavier's explanations he still felt violated, still felt unsure about these two. It was Xavier's eyes which unnerved him the most, those two, cold eyes which seemed to suck up the emotion around him and give nothing back, black holes to the soul. Within them, Logan saw, was pure insanity. Not the blaring, ranting insanity, but the quiet, calm, deadly kind which is all the more dangerous for it's subtly.

            Yet what choice did he have? He supposed he could attempt to leave, but where else would he go? It wasn't as if these people's ideals conflicted with his either, Kurt and Todd at least seemed good sorts. Besides, these people had taken him out of the arena, out of hell, for that at least he owed them some forgiveness and civility.

            So it was that, slowly, he followed Xavier and Magneto to the main table, and sat with them. Kurt, however, remained standing until Magneto's finger beckoned him to join them.

            'Well…' prompted Xavier.

            'Not much to the story, really,' said Logan, 'the dumb guards got lazy, and I got good at acting. One idiot forgot to turn off the collar as he led me back to my cell, I killed him, and escaped. But I couldn't work out how to get the damn collar off, so I kept it on, and kept the control pad near me. Wandered round Canada for a bit, kept myself free for about a year, but I then got sloppy too. Got discovered, cornered by a lynch mob, and taken down by a few lucky shots. They found out how the collar worked, used it, and took it in their heads to sell me to a passing show man. So that's how I got myself involved in the fighting scene. It's been like that for the last few years, passed on to different owners, moving around with them using the collar to control me. Suppose I was lucky, all their work is undercover, and the government ignores it. They never thought I'd get involved in that ring, so they never looked, guess those idiots kept me out of the hands of Weapon X.'

            'Indeed,' sighed Magneto, 'and out of our gaze too, it seems in out haste to go for large, high profile targets we have missed some small, but very valuable treasures. Thank you once again, Kurt, you have proved yourself a credit and fine example to mutants everywhere.' 

            Kurt smiled, and gave a slight nod, but there was something in his eyes… for some reason it seemed to Logan that he was not quite as happy with Magneto's praise as he should have been.

            'What about you, Chuck,' asked Logan, 'how did you escape, last I saw of you it looked pretty broken.'

            'Let's just say you're not the only good actor,' replied Psy, 'though I don't deny that Weapon X did change me, it didn't quite break me. I retained my wits, and abilities. I survived… just. The collars I wore back then was not as… efficient as yours, being only a replica. I learnt to overcome its mutant negation field, and thus was eventually able to use my telepathy against the guards and set myself free, along with Tempest. After some wandering we met up with Magneto and the rest is history.' 

            'Yeah,' said Logan, 'I heard about 'Ro's death, it's a shame. She was a good sort.'

            'Indeed, but she died as she lived, gloriously.' Said Magneto, 'her body may be dead, but her name will live on for many years to come.' 

            'So,' continued Xavier, 'the next question is simply what do you want to do next?'

            'We would wish you to stay here,' added Magneto, 'to join us in our cause, our fight to free other mutants like yourself. Yet we will not force you, like the humans might. Logan, something is coming, events are moving swiftly and soon, very, very soon I will need you, and all those like you. To have you on our side… it would be a great boon, both in moral and in skill. There is a… a mission coming, a vital mission, one which could change the entire course of Homo Superior. In this mission your help would be invaluable, if you could find the will and the desire to partake in it. Stay here for a while, tomorrow the preparations will be complete, and we shall reveal more details of this event, then, when you have heard more, you may decide to help us, or not. Does that seem acceptable to you?'

            Logan nodded, why not? He owed this people his ear, if nothing else, and Magneto had surely riled up his curiosity. 

            'Excellent,' breathed Magneto, 'in which case you will want attending to. Kurt, will you be so good as to attend to Logan's needs until he is settled in? He will need food, cloths, and a place to sleep. Can you arrange that?'

            'No problem,' responded Kurt.

            'Good,' said Xavier, 'if any difficulties to occur, contact me. Until tomorrow then, the meeting will be at 09:00, don't be late.'

            Kurt nodded, got out of his chair and gave a formal bow to the two men, Logan followed him, though he only nodded to them on the way out.

Reader's Replies: 

Gyuumajo: I hope this chapter did as well. Glad to see you sticking with this, it's nice to have a steady reviewer. 

Telle: You can do it! I know you can! Hold on in there pal!

Scribbler: It's good to see you around. Thanks for the compliments, too. And folks, just to return the favor, I would remind you that the FIRST chapter of this tale was written by her, she set the stage for all this. She's an awesome story crafter, one of the best writers out there, her Just The Way You Are fic started all this and, damn, it's good! So, once you've finished looking at my stuff, go to her! Ya hear me? Go to her! 

Kiki5: A few short explanations. Psy is alive and kicking, as is Magneto, the dead one is Tempest. Yes, Psy is Xavier's new code name because 'Professor X' just didn't cut it for this story line. It just sounds… wrong. I hope you understand the reasoning for this. A few other people have different code names too, but all for good reasons. Don't worry though, most people will stick to the names we know and love. 

Wolviesfan: Ooooh, another new vict- er… reviewer. To be fair, that's Scribbler's mistake rather than mine, as it appeared in the first chapter but… yeah… it's a mistake. I hope you can look past it. I'm not hugely into Logan history and stuff, I mean, I know a bit but there may be the odd mistake. Point them out to me if you wish, but please don't let them hamper your enjoyment of this fic, OK? Thanks for reviewing, BTW, I hope you continue!

Mocla: Hello! Nice to see another new face! Yes, Pietro will be making an appearance in this fic! In the next chapter, in fact! Though he might be different from how you remember him…

NEXT CHAPTER: A nice long one this time, folks, more Evo-characters introduced! A conflict! Logan faces his memories! And cabbage! Yes, that's right, cabbage!

GRATUITOUS ADVERTISING: Do you like Kurt? Do you like Rogue? Do you like Mystique? Read Family Affair! It's my latest story and (in my poor opinion) probably my best. Go on, click to it… you know you want to…


	6. The Genetically Mutated Cabbage

Notes:

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 6: The Genetically Mutated Cabbage

By Yma

            Two hours later Logan was very confused, but doing a good job to hide it. Kurt had led him on a fast, whistle stop tour of the station, showing him all but the most restricted areas. He had rustled up some clothes also, to replace the tattered arena garb he had worn for so long. Now a pair of black trousers and a turtleneck, the same uniform as worn by all the MLF, strained across his large frame.

            The names and faces of the many mutant's Kurt had introduced him too seemed to merge together into one large conglomeration of confusion. 

            To be truthful, although Logan liked to be kept in the know, and although he would normally find the exhibition interesting, all he really wanted to do was get some food inside him, curl up and fall asleep.

            So all in all Logan was more than happy when they reached a stopping point. 

            It was a large hall, as big as any of the tents Logan had fought in, and almost as busy. 

            Chairs and table of all shapes and sizes were strewn about, as were mutants of similar descriptions. The smell and sound hit Logan full in the face, almost bowling him over. The rest of the station had been relatively quiet, most people talking in soft mummers, the scent of antiseptic had drowned out all other possible smells, not so here. 

This was the Asteroid M canteen, a place of relaxation, gossip, and merry mutant meetings. 

            And everyone seemed to be willing to meet him. 

            As they entered the canteen each eye turned to them and to Logan in particular. Several people started to clap, some just went back to their food with a shrug, and others actually got up and shook Logan's hands.

            'An honor to meet you sir… an honor,' a green skinned boy said.

            'I never thought I'd see the day,' greeted a blond Australian man, 'you're welcome here mate, more than welcome!'

            'I heard you once killed an entire army base of flat-scans,' whispered one young woman with bones growing out of her skin and purple hair, 'can you tell us about it?'

            'People, people,' called out Kurt, 'please! This man is tired, he needs food and rest. Leave him be for a while, maybe he'll answer your questions tomorrow… Ja?'

            With several muttered complaints the small mob of admires dispersed, leaving Kurt and Logan to find a table and food.

            'Verdammt Todd,' swore Kurt to himself, 'did you have to tell *everybody!* Spyke will have heard for sure by now. Ach, and I was so looking forward to seeing his face…'

            'Will mine do instead, sugar?'

            Kurt's head snapped up and a grin appeared on his features, 'Rouge!' he cried out joyfully, before bounding towards the speaker.

            She was a most extraordinary woman, her hair was auburn except for two streaks of white at the front, dressed in the same black garb as everyone else, and she also wore gloves which stretched from finger to elbow. What was most interesting about her, however, was her blue skin, a similar azure blue to Kurt's, only furless. 

            The two blue mutants hugged and patted each others backs, 'oh, I missed you, mein swester,' laughed Kurt, 'but I wasn't expecting you to be back from your mission for another week yet!'

            'Neither was I!' said Rouge, 'but I got this communication from Psy yesterday telling me to return and… well, here I am!'

            Kurt frowned, 'what about the mission?' he asked.

            'I don't know, but whatever Psy wants me for it must be pretty tough. It took me months to get the trust of… well… I'll tell you later.' 

            She broke off having noticed Logan, seemingly for the first time.

            'So, you're the First of the Weapon-X Three, you're the Wolverine.' 

            'Guess so, but call me Logan, and you are?' 

            'The name's Rouge, Kurt's my brother.'

            'I can see the resemblance.'

            'Would it surprise you to know this isn't genetic?'

            Logan raised an eyebrow, 'yep,' he grunted.

            'Well then, that's another story for me to tell you later. Now, let's get us some grub.'

            She led them through the maze of eating mutants to a large table, where they plonked themselves down. 

            'So,' started Kurt, 'I suppose Todd came through and told everyone?'

            'And their aunt,' chuckled Rouge, 'don't tell me you tried to keep this a secret, Kurt? Not with Todd about. He's a nice boy, but he couldn't keep his tongue wagging unless you stapled it to the floor!'

            'I may yet do that…'

            Rouge grinned at this, 'well, he's off on another reconnaissance mission at the moment, so that'll have to wait. Oh, I invited Sam and the twins over to join us, is that OK?'

            Kurt shrugged, amiable enough.

            Suddenly Logan spoke up 'The GM Cabbage?' he enquired, gesturing to the graffiti written sign on one of the ceiling struts.

            'Ja, Genetically Mutated.'

            'And the cabbage part?'

            'You understand that in a few days,' grinned Rogue, 'for whatever reason cabbage seems to be a staple part of the meals here, perhaps the easiest thing we can get hold of in the way of food.'

            'It's a great comfort really,' put in Kurt, 'people come and go, laws are made and broken, empires rise and fall, but always cabbage shall be served in the Asteroid M canteen.'

            'Never a truer word spoken!' called out another voice, and Logan looked up to see four more figures approach them, three of whom carried a trey of food in each hand.

One was a young man, younger than Kurt or Rouge, with a tall, but muscular build and a mop of golden hair. Behind him came two more people, a boy and a girl, eerily similar, eerily different. The boy was dressed, oddly enough, in white, and had a crop of silver hair to match. The girl wore the usual black uniform, and ebony hair echoing her clothing. The strangest thing about them, however, was their movements. Their every step was in time, their breathing was synchronized, it almost seemed as if they were one being, one creature split in two.

            Finally, trotting at their side was a dog, red-brown in color with an almost wolf-like look to it. 

            'Logan,' said Kurt, feeling a need to make some introductions, 'meet Sam Gurthre, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, and Rahne.'

            'Pleased to meet you,' greeted Sam, putting down his trays, Wanda and Pietro did likewise.

            The dog Logan presumed was Rahne sniffed him experimentally. When he brought down his hand to pet her, she cringed a little, in the manner of an abused animal, but after some more cautions sniffling she allowed herself to be stroked. 

            'Nice animal,' he commended, 'didn't know the MLF kept pets.'

            'She's not a pet,' said Sam coolly, 'she's a member. She has the power to turn into a wolf, but the humans… hurt her for a long time, now she it too scared to come out of her wolf form.'

            Logan stopped stroking the shape-trapped girl at this, but she wined pitifully, and he continued again.

            He turned his attention to the food now before him, and scowled.

            'Cabbage,' muttered Kurt, 'or I think its cabbage anyway.'

            'What about this? Is it runner beans?' put in Rouge.

            'I'm pretty sure these are mushrooms,' stated Sam, 'and I reckon these bits here are some sort of meat.'

            'Well… something pretending to be meat anyway, though weather any actual meat was ever involved…'

            'Pass it on to Rahne if you don't like it.'

            Rouge did so, but Kurt kept his, and indeed began shoveling it down with relish.

            'What's *this*' exclaimed the blue girl suddenly, discovering yet another unexpected ingredient.

            'Fuck knows,' said Sam, who had also begun munching, 'eat it anyway. Sheesh, you been too spoiled by that human food while you were undercover, that's what your problem is.'

            Rouge only shrugged. 

            'So,' said Sam at last, between mouthfuls, 'you're the famous Wolverine. Tell me, what 'cha got planned?'

            'Planned?' asked Logan, looking up from a fork full of… well… something generally edible.

            'Yeah, what you gonna do next?'

            Logan frowned, he had given no real thought to that, 'find myself a place to rest up,' he said, 'elf said he's sort me that out. Then tomorrow I got a meeting with Charlie and Magneto.'

            'Charlie and Magneto,' Rouge echoed, 'you know, I think I like this guy, anyone who can get away with called Psy by his first name gotta be a hard nut in my books.' 

            'Oh ja,' agreed Kurt between mouthfuls, 'I think we can all safely say that freund Logan here is indeed a hard nut.'

            'So,' continued Sam, ignoring his comrades, 'you been invited to that big ol' conference tomorrow? The top secret meeting that we can't get Kurt to talk about for love nor money. You know anything about it?'

            Logan shook his head, but turned his eyes onto Kurt speculatively.

            'Don't look at me!' the elf protested, 'this time, secret means secret!'

            'Oh come on, sugar,' cooed Rouge, 'you can tell us…'

            'Nein, I learned my lesson from Todd. I tell you, everyone and his aunt, and his second cousin, will know. Nien, this elf stays silent!'

            'Speakin' of silent,' put in Logan, thinking a distraction was needed, 'what's up with the twins. They ain't said a word.' 

            'Oh, sorry,' apologized Sam, 'they're a bit antisocial. Pietro, Wanda, say hello to Mr Logan, separately, as we practiced. You first, Pietro.'

            'Hello,' said Pietro.

            'Hello,' said Wanda.

            'Well done,' congratulated Sam, and Logan frowned, obviously a little confused.

            'The twins are fairly new here,' explained Sam, 'came about three months ago, they're Magneto's kids, but they've been locked up in a lab most of their lives.'

            'They,' continued Rogue, 'are an example of what happens if you take two twins, perform fucked up genetic and psychological experiments on them, and make them entirely dependent on one another.' 

            'Yeah, they just… break down if separated,' said Sam, 'we've just about managed them to sit apart, on opposite sides of a room, but that's the height of it. It's tragic, it really is.'

            Logan, looking at the strange twins, could not help but agree. Humans. Was there anything so sacred they could not defile it? 

            The conversation lulled then for a bit, but picked up again later. Logan didn't understand much of it, filled with jargon and mission plans as it was, but some of it filtered through. Soon he felt himself begin to relax, for the first time in many, many, many years he was sitting with a group of people simply enjoying himself. Listen to casual conversation, hearing friendly laugher… it was good.

            Then the twins spotted something and, after conferring between themselves in inaudible whispers, they spoke out again.

            'The Spyke man comes towards us,' said Pietro.

            'He looks very angry,' added Wanda.

            'Of course he's angry,' chuckled Kurt, 'he's just had his overlarge pride popped, by me, no less.' He took a sip of water from a plastic beaker, 'this should be interesting,' he added.

            Turning, Logan watched the bony boy approach, barging his way though the crowds of people in the canteen without as much as an 'excuse me.' He didn't look so much angry as… focused… determined.

            'Gutten Tag Spyke, come to dazzle us with your delightful company?'

            'Fuck off freak-boy,' was the grunted response, 'and you too, slut,' he added, when Rouge opened her mouth to protest, 'I want to talk to the man here.'

            With this he cast his eye on Logan, his gaze critical, judgmental, yet somewhat more respectful than the looks he gave Kurt and Rouge.

            'So…' he drawled at last, 'you're the famed Wolverine.'

            'I prefer to be called Logan,' the man in question muttered, 'Wolverine is just the name given to me by the humans, but what's it to you anyway?'

            'My real name's Evan Daniels,' replied Spyke smugly, 'you knew my aunt. Ororo Munroe, also known as Tempest.'

            Logan took a sip of water, using the movement to buy time to plan his next words, 'yeah,' he said at last, 'she was a good woman. I was sorry to hear about her death.' 

            'Don't be,' said Spyke, 'her storms and tornadoes took down half of New York with her, she exterminated over 20,000 flat-scan scum, and that was only straight off. She was a warrior; I only hope I can tread in her footsteps.' 

            Logan said nothing; he concentrated on sipping on his water. 

            'You know, in some circles I'm known as Spyke Sapient Slayer, 73 flat-scans I've killed, with my own hands too. What about you… Logan. How many have you nailed?'

            'Enough.' 

            The tension at the table, already at knife point, strained even further on that response. Rouge chewed her lip, Kurt's tail thrashed, the twins squeezed each others hands and there came the soft sound of Rahne whimpering. Sam reached under the table and stroked her, soothingly.

            'Enough?' echoed Spyke incredulously, 'come on, Wolverine, you know humans, they breed like bloody rats, and they're twice the vermin! Enough is never enough. But maybe you're being humble, you don't need to, you know. She told me about you, my aunt, she told me what a fighter you were, what a warrior. I just wanna hear some of the stories from your own lips, hear about some of those fights. Saying, 'enough,' makes you sound like a weary old man!'

            'That's 'cos I am,' said Logan, looking up from his cup of water, his dark eyes boring into Spyke's, 'I'm a tired old man and you're a young kid. We shouldn't be talking about these things; we shouldn't be taking pride in them. It's not what your aunt would have wanted.' 

            Spyke bristled, literally, his bones making clicking noises as they reared up, 'how dare you, old man!' he hissed, 'how dare you insult the memory of my aunt! of hSh

She was a warrior, a fighter, a heroine, what the hell do you know about her!'

            'I know,' said Logan slowly, carefully, each word weighted with sadness and loss, 'that Ororo Monroe is dead. She died many years ago, in the cells of the Weapon X Project. She died in that inhuman cage, same as Charles Xavier died, same as a lot of me died. I know this because Ororo Monroe loved life, she loved it in all its forms and states, and that love spread to everything, and everyone, even the humans that hurt her. She would never have died using her powers to kill like that, using her powers to destroy… it just wasn't her nature, wasn't her way. That was the way of Tempest, that was the way of a Weapon X mutant, a twisted tool of vicious humans, nothing more. When I remember her… I think of Ororo Munroe, the gentle, passionate, powerful woman, not the cold, angry Tempest, to do so… that would be an insult to her memory. And it's not what she would have wanted, not at all…'

            Spyke's face was a mask of sheer rage, its hard features twisted grotesquely, 'what the fuck to you know!' he spat, each word dripping venom, 'you don't know her, you never knew her! You didn't see her when she escaped, you didn't sit with her through the nightmares, didn't care her, feed her, didn't live with her! You weren't even in the same fucking cell as her! Didn't do *anything* for her! You left her to rot back in Weapon X, only Psy had the skill and courage to save her, not you! You're just a cowherd, a human slave, a whimpering *lap dog!*'

            As these vicious words were spoken, a feral growl escaped Logan's mouth, he stood up, the steel legs of his chair squealing gratingly against the floor as he did so, setting on edge the teeth of all listeners.

            Another metallic sound, the 'shinkt' of claws unsheathing cut the air.

            'You care to rephrase that accusation, bub?' asked Logan.

            'You care to kiss my butt like a good little pet mutie, lap dog,' sneered Spyke.

            Logan gave a roar at this and rushed forward, adamantium claws leading the way, but Spyke's dodged his attack easily and sent a barrage of bone spikes flying towards him, all of which Logan also dodged, and they thudded into the wall of the cafeteria harmlessly. The patrons, however, were more than a little nervous; suddenly the room became almost empty of mutants as people rushed for safer seats of observation. 

            'Logan!' Kurt called out as the man dived away from yet another flight of projectile bones.

            'Stay back Elf,' Logan snapped, 'I don't need your help, don't want you involved.'

            'Yeah, cur,' cackled Spyke, 'let me whip this fucker, then I'll thrash you, human-loving scum!'

            Yet more spikes were slung in Logan's direction, forcing him to do an array of acrobatics that impressed even Kurt, but still this was not enough, as one lucky shard caught his shoulder, burrowing into his flesh.

            Logan let out a howl of pain, his senses heightening even further as a new rush of adrenalin coursed into his system. Clutching the wound, he tugged out the bone shard that was embedded there, and slung it desperately towards Spyke. Using surprisingly quick reflexes, the bone boy sidestepped the missile and grabbed it from midair, as Logan backed away, circling his nemesis. 

            Spyke, for his part, seemed happy enough with this arrangement, using the pause; he brought the gore splattered bone to his mouth, and licked it.

            'Ummmm,' he rumbled, his lips smeared with Logan's blood, 'better than ice-cream.'

            Then, drawing two more spikes out and holding them like daggers, he charged.

Logan should have had the advantage, then, his own weapons being more suited to close combat, and his weight being significantly greater than his opponents, but instead of Spyke being impaled on those sharp metallic claws, he found his blow deflected. Spyke ducked under and pushed up Logan's arm, bringing a dagger into play, swinging it at Logan's head. Logan only just managed to move away from the slice which surely would have taken out his eye, and instead only got a deep cut along his cheek. 

            Spyke gave a wicked laugh, and rolled away from Logan's sweeping claws, emerging a few feet away, grinning toothily, yet more spikes emerging from his skin to impale the burly man.

            Logan's breath was coming in ragged bursts by now, sweat leaked into the cut on his cheek, making it sting awfully. Shock had set in before his healing factor, so the wound to his shoulder, instead of burning with savage agony, merely throbbed dully, Logan was more aware of the wetness of his own blood on the new uniform than of the pain. 

            Suddenly another sound reached Logan's ears which were filled with the pounding of blood.

            The crowd of observing mutants, until now stunned into silence with the fight, took the opportunity to call out, to let their voices be heard. 

            'Come on Wolvie! You can do it!'

            'Go Wolverine!'

            'You can to better than that, get 'im!'

            'Thrash the lil' fucker!'

            'Slice 'n' dice 'im!'

            Something shifted in Logan's head as he heard these words, and the world changed.

            He was Wolverine, and he was in the arena again. The crowd, always the crowd, screaming, shouting, demanding, baying for blood. Chairs, tables, food, all dissolved away into the cold, hard floor of the arena. The cold mettle walls became the stained canvas of the arena tent, the hard weight of the collar reappeared around his neck and before him his adversary stood. The face, the name, the personality had gone. When, where, how or why, these did not matter, it did not matter that he was tired, or in pain, or anything else. This was about survival, and the only question that mattered was whether he'd live to see the next day. In the arena it was kill or be killed. He was Spitfire, Rabid, Feral, Wolverine… and he fought to the death. That's what the audience wanted.

            And what the audience wants…

            Later few could describe the fight in any detail, nor could they say exactly what changed, except a vague feeling that the combatants themselves had altered. 

            What before had been a fight where Spyke had taken the offensive, had dexterously dodged and redirected each blow aimed at him, turned into something entirely different. Now it was Wolverine which slung the punches, Wolverine who took the offensive, Wolverine who dodged the clumsy blows, and Wolverine who draw blood from his increasingly desperate opponent. 

            Soon enough Spyke found himself slung across the room by the hairy man, flying like his spikes through the air, to land, hard, against a hard, steel wall.

            Pain burst in his head, the world went white; he struggled for consciousness as the dark, shadowing form of Wolverine stalked forward, claws gleaming hungrily.

            Wolverine advanced further until he was right next to Evan, his arm went up, his claws sparkled in the cold cafeteria light, raised ready to strike down, ready to cut through bone like butter and slice through the sweet flesh beyond.

            'Logan, Nein!' 

            That name… Logan… his name. No. 

            Logan blinked, the world coming back into focus, his senses returning to normal. 

            He glanced around quickly, he was not in the arena, and he was free, in the station of Asteroid M, a cafeteria, a place of friendship, not blood. The crowed had ceased its calling and baying, watching mutely, with bated breath. His eyes strayed to where his friends stood, the twins were clutching each other, huddled in a corner, Rouge stood statue still, fists clenched at her sides, worry plastered on her face. Sam's face wore a similar expression, but he was crouched down, hugging a whimpering, shaking Rahne.

            It was Kurt's eyes which pierced Logan the most though, those two glowing yellow orbs staring into his dark ones, his face calm, but intense, not judging but quietly begging. 

            'Logan,' he murmured again, 'Logan, please… it's over.'

            The feral man turned back to his nemesis, and saw before him a boy.

            In the collision with the wall, and the shock which followed, Spyke had lost control of his power. The bone-plates which had previously covered him had withdrawn into his body, leaving the child that was underneath on view to the world.

            He was young, a little younger than Kurt, perhaps. His skin was a dusky brown, his hair golden blond, probably dyed. He was somewhat thinner than was healthy, perhaps, his cheekbones sticking up slightly; a few small scars marring the brown skin.      Sweat, a little blood and mild cuts and bruises adorned his body; his dark uniform was shredded in several places. Logan's cold claws were against his open neck, but had not dug in deeply, though they had scratched, drawing narrow lines of blood. 

            His eyes, though, retained their proud fire, their cold, arrogant, savage gleam. 

            'No,' muttered Logan, 'it's not over, not quite yet.'

            'Go on,' gasped Evan, conscious that every move of his throat caused the claws to dig in deeper, 'finish it, kill me.'

            'Is that what you really want?' asked Logan, 'do you really want to die? Why?'

            'I… I'm a warrior; this is a noble death, a proper death. I am like my aunt; death holds no fear for me.' 

            Another growl escaped Logan's throat, as if these words angered him, his arm muscles tensed and he almost did as he was asked, almost brought his talons forward, but he controlled himself.

            'No,' he said at last, 'no, you're no warrior, you never have been. Wanna know why?'

            Spyke didn't reply, but Logan took that to be an affirmative.

            'Because you fight for death, and I fight for life. When I fight, I don't fight to kill, and I don't fight expecting death. I fight to survive, or to protect the lives of those I care for. That is the difference between me and you, between Ororo and Tempest, between a true warrior, and an animal, a weapon, a psychopath.' 

            'But you're none of those,' he continued, looking into Evan's startled, enraptured eyes, 'you're just a kid. An angry, lonely, bitter kid who's been forced to grow up too hard and too fast, you're Ororo's kid, and she wouldn't have wanted this. So I'm letting you live, because you don't deserve that kind of death.'

            His claws withdrew into his knuckles, and he stepped back. Slowly, tentatively, Spyke arose, rubbing his neck, his eyes never leaving Logan. 

            'Go on,' snapped Logan, 'go away, leave, and come back when you're learned to love life a bit more, come back when you've grown into a warrior. When you decide fight for life, Evan Daniels, then I'll teach you all I know, but until then I suggest you try to stay outta my way. Pick another fight with me or my friends and I'll cut you to ribbons. Now piss off before I change my mind!'

            With his eyes still fixed on Logan, the boy did has he was bid, limping out of the room, the crowd opening up to let him pass, and then closing behind him, swallowing him so that he was soon out of view.

            Stillness and silence reigned for a while then, no one sure quite what to do. Logan sunk to his knees with a sigh, feeling his wounds begin knit themselves closed as his healing factor kicked into gear properly, he was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to heed the staring throng.

            He became aware of something wet and rough scraping across one limp hand, he looked down to see Rahne licking his hand, her tail wagging softly, her large, soulful eyes gleaming with very un-lupine like intelligence.

            Logan allowed a tired smile to cross his rough features; he scratched her tenderly behind the ear.

            'Don't worry gal,' he soothed, 'it's over.'

            As if this was some sort of queue, people began to speak again, the crowd bubbling with soft talking.

            'Um,' spoke up Sam nervously, 'you're wounds, sir, and do you want us to take you to the med-lab?'

            'No,' grunted Logan, 'I'll be fine. Just need rest… Elf, can you get me somewhere to sleep, for some reason I ain't that hungry any more.'

            'Sure Herr Logan,' replied Kurt, moving forward and helping him to his feet.

            Rahne, satisfied that he was being looked after, trotted back to Sam's arms.

            'See you later,' Kurt called back to his friends as they started to leave, Logan leaning on Kurt's shoulder, using his strength to support Logan until his own returned. 

            As soon as they came near the crowd they were mobbed by babbled questions and cheery congratulations. 

            'Out of the way, out of the way,' balked Kurt, ignoring question and congratulation alike, 'can't you see he's tired? Save it for later, the show's over now, nothing to see here, show's over!'  

            At this Logan couldn't help but smile. The show was over. 

            He wondered if the elf would never know quite how right he was.

Reader's Replies

Wheee! That was a long one! Hope you all liked it! I've gotta say, personally, it's one of the chapters I feel happiest about. 

Guumajo: Um… still there? I must go and read some of your stories next. Yeah, I'll do that after posting this… Do you like this chapter BTW? 

Telle: Thanks for the complement. I'm holding on like a limpet. You? 

Rogue Pryde: OK, see, Rogue's in it! Just look above! Pryde? No comment. Gambit? I won't lie. I'm very, very, very sorry but I'm afraid he's not. Please don't let this put you off though, 'K? If it's any comfort, practically EVERYONE else makes an appearance or is at least mentioned in this fic. 

Kiki5: Hope you weren't too disturbed by the cabbage! And see, I got more characters in it! AND there'll be more background coming up soon! 

Hummm… only four readers? ): Come on, there MUST be more of you out there! Tell me what you think! PLEASE REVIEW! Please? 

Next Chapter: The Uber-Secret Meeting commences! PLOT!


	7. The Meeting

Notes:

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 7: The meeting.

            Logan gave an ungentlemanly grunt as he was nudged into wakefulness. He uttered a few choice fraises and rolled over, allowing his rheumy eyes to open a crack.

            Before him stood a blue demon.

            Wolverine sprang up, claws springing out of his clenched fists, ready to face his opponent.

            The demon took a step back, golden eyes wide, 'Logan!' he cried in strongly accented tones, 'Logan, it's me! Kurt!'

            Logan blinked, reality slipping into focus, memory slotting into place one again. He groaned, stretching the aching muscles in his back, he'd spent the night on the floor of Kurt's tiny room.

            This was the resting place he had taken the weary warrior after the conflict in the canteen, and it in fact contained two bunks. However this second bunk was the bed of Kurt's roommate, who happened to be the absent Todd. One glance at those stained sheets had persuaded Logan that the floor was far, far softer than it looked.  

            'Sorry kid,' he grunted, 'I'm ain't good at mornings.'

            'I guessed,' replied Kurt dryly, 'it's a good thing I didn't give you the wakeup call I give Todd when he oversleeps.'

            'And what's that?'

            'An ice cold bucket of water over the head.'

            'Don't even think about it,' said Logan, 'my sense of humor isn't very good at this time of day.'

            This was strictly true, for whatever cruelties Logan's previous 'handlers' had visited on him, early mornings were not one of them. Most fights took place after dark, so there was rarely any need to awaken him before mid-day. 

            'It's not just for comedy value,' replied Kurt, now rummaging in his ever-present back-pack, 'that bucket of water is the only form of cleansing he ever gets, I swear. And you should be glad I let you sleep in so late, it is 8:30 already, we have that meeting, remember? It wouldn't do any good to keep either Magneto or Psy waiting. I was up hours ago, picked up breakfast, and I_ mended your uniform, see?'_

            He picked up and displayed Logan's new, black uniform, now sporting several barely noticeable stitches. 

            'Thanks,' Logan said, taking and donning the newly fixed garb.

            When he was dressed Kurt threw him what looked like several strips of cardboard. Closer inspection revealed them to be strips of food rations, hardly high cuisine, but Logan consumed them without complaint.

            When he'd eaten Kurt passed him a flask of water, which he also downed. 

            'Now you've quite finished,' said Kurt, 'we'd best get going.'

            Logan nodded, and forced himself to his feet once more, he started to stride to the door when he felt Kurt's tri-digit hand on his arm. 

            'Walking? At 8:58? I think not, mein Freund!'

            Seeing what was coming, Logan groaned deeply. His last thoughts before nausea and spatial disorientation over came him were a brief thanks to God that had only eaten a small breakfast.

            When his senses had realigned and the foul smelling sulfur smoke had cleared, Logan saw that he was once again in the meeting room where he had met with Psy and Magneto the day before. Now however, it was somewhat more crowded.

            Half, if not all, of the MLF seemed to be there, mutants of all varieties crammed in, chattering, laughing, whispering.

            'There you are!' called out a voice, Logan saw that it was the blue skinned girl he had met yesterday, Rogue, he thought she was called.

            'I'll never understand how a teleporter like yerself can always manage to be late for everything!' she said in her think, southern drawl.

            'It's a talent,' laughed Kurt, 'call it an extra mutant ability, and I'm not late, it's still only 8:59.'

            'Yeah well, you'd better get your fuzzy hide up front, that's where they want you, and Wolverine.'

            'Danke,' said Kurt, and he began to swim though the crowed of Homo-Superior, Logan following on his tail. The wild man could not help but notice that people seemed to move away, create a path for them, as they pushed their way though. He got the impression that, for him at least, it was a mark of respect, for Kurt though… For Kurt it was more of a subconscious dislike of contact, as if they were worried they'd be tainted by his touch.

            Before he could ponder this further, he found himself pushed into a hard, steel chair by Kurt. They were right at the front, facing the long, steel table where Psy and Magneto sat.

            Even as they watched Magneto arose and moved towards them.

            'Wolverine,' he murmured, bending over a little, 'you may sit in Tempest's chair if you wish, both I and Psy would consider it an honor.'

            'Thanks,' grunted Logan, also keeping his voice low, 'but I'm happy where I am, for now anyway.'

            A touch of regret flew across Magneto's face, but he nodded, and moved back to his seat. Logan could tell, by the looks he gave Psy, that they were discussing something telepathically, probably about him.

            Telepathy, is there anything better for paranoia?

            A few moments later there was the "bang! Bang!" of a gravel on the steel table. Logan noticed, with some shock, that the gravel appeared to be moving on its own, he didn't remember Psy as a telekinetic.

            Kurt caught his shocked expression, 'it's Magneto,' he whispered hastily, 'power over the magnetic forces of the earth, he's the one moving it.'

            Logan nodded, mentally slapping himself for not figuring it out.

            'Order! order!' called out the man in question, and suddenly the room full of noisy mutants was replaced by a room full of extremely quiet ones. 

            'Ladies and gentlemen,' Magneto began, 'we have gathered you all here for an important announcement. A vital gathering. What comes out of this meeting may change the course of fate for mutants everywhere. All mutants everywhere.'  

            If possible the room went even quieter; Logan could hardly hear the sound of breathing. If Magneto didn't have their attention before, he surely had it now. 

            'But before we get to the bone of the matter,' he continued, 'we must look towards its source.'

            He stepped back, resumed his seat, whilst at the same time Psy stood up, taking up the speech. His style was much more subtle than Magneto, he did not forcefully grab the attention of his listeners, here merely took it, expected it, and got the same result. 

            'The story begins many years ago,' he said in his smooth, gentle voice, 'only a few years after the… discovery of mutants. During those days the head of mutant operations was one William Stryker.' 

            He pressed a button on the steel table and, on one of the computer screens behind him, there came up the image of a portly, bearded man. 

            'Stryker,' continued Xavier, 'met his doom a few months ago, at the hands of Tempest, but since his death others, such as Graydon Creed,' another image, this one of a younger, dark haired, handsome man, replaced that of Stryker, 'have taken his place.'

            'However, in the days I speak of, William Stryker began a government initiative aimed at the total extermination of mutants, a final solution. To do this he, with the forced aid of Forge and, I am ashamed to admit, some of my own early work, attempted to build a killing machine, a telepathic enhancer which they named Cerebro.' 

            Again a button was pressed, and this time an image of a computer, of gigantic proportions, filled the screen. At its center there was a chair and a strange helmet, linked via a tube to the rest of the machine. 

            'To use this monstrosity a powerful telepath was needed, and that is where I came in. They wished to break me, then place me in Cerebro, which would magnify my powers further, allowing me to contact and detect every mutant on the planet, then shut their minds down.'

            Psy fell silent at that, allowing his words to sink in.

            'But with my escape,' he continued after a moment, 'this plan seemed ruined, no one but a telepath of my might could effectively use the machine and Cerebro was put into storage. For a while we thought the threat was over, or over whilst I remained with the MLF and my will was my own. Then, just over half a year ago, news reached us otherwise. For this I call up Kurt Wagner, our herald of doom, if he will forgive the phrase.'

            Logan turned in surprise to Kurt, who had sucked in a breath of air, nervous tension obvious on his azure face. 

            'Here we go,' he muttered to himself, before rising to his feet at moving to the front of the table where both Psy and Magneto once again sat. 

            'As some of you may know,' he began, his fluty voice trembling a little, his tail twisting nervously at his side, 'I was eHerHrescued from the Los Angelis breeding camps, a few months ago, where I had spent a years tenure.'

            Now it was Logan's turn to suck in cold air, as he felt the blood drain from his face in shock. The boy had been in the breeding camps! Few, very, very few escaped those hell holes with their body or mind intact. Logan wouldn't have wished that on his worse enemy… well, probably not, at least. The thought that Kurt, the happy, humane, up beat, life loving Kurt had spent any time at all there… it was almost unthinkable. 

            'During that time,' continued the elf, 'I learned about a few of the projects occurring there. Amongst them was the Mind-Link initiative.'

            He turned to Psy and Magneto, the former of which nodded and pressed the button once again, allowing yet another image to appear on the screen behind them, this one of two teenagers, one male, one female, both naked. The boy had short, brown hair and his eyes were a strange, crimson color, the woman, as beautiful a girl as Logan had ever seen, had hair as red as the boy's eyes, and eyes the shade of emeralds.

            'These,' said Kurt, gesturing to the screen, 'are subjects Summers and Grey. Top geneticists at the Los Angelis Breeding Center researched, and then combined their genes. Breeding them to create… this!'

            On the screen now was the twisting image of a gene, it meant nothing to Logan, and little else to most of the others in that room.

            'We have no pictures of the child, who was born many months ago, but he is known as X-man. He is a mutant, and if the genetic projections and research is correct, then he is a telepath of ability which equals, if not surpasses, that of Psy. Even now he is growing in a maturation tank, and if our own forecasts are correct, then he shall be active and ready for use within the next few weeks, if not days. When that happens, they'll put him in Cerebro, and use him to locate and shut down the mind of every mutant on and around earth.'

            At these words the room broke out of the breathy silence and into a hubbub of whispers and muttered ramblings. 

            The gravel banged on the table again, stopping the hubbub, and bringing everyone's attention back to the main table.

            'I know,' said Magneto, 'that this news must come as a shock to you all, that is why we did not declare it sooner, we knew the worry and chaos it might bring, but do not fear, for we have not been idle. We have a plan to thwart this attack, and mayhap turn these circumstances to our advantage.'

            'Over the last few months,' started Psy, 'we have been secretly creating another Teleport Pad, one which will take us into the heart of New York, right next to the Breeding Center. We have also handpicked a group of mutants who will accompany Magneto and myself in this mission. They are as follows: Evan Daniels, codename; Spyke, Kurt Wagner, codename; Nightcrawler, Pietro and Wanda Lehnerr, codenames; Yin and Yang. Finally, we would also ask that Logan, codename; Wolverine, would accompany us on this mission, his help would be invaluable.'

            Psy looked towards the sitting Logan, who nodded grimly. It seemed a reasonable enough request. These people had freed him, after all, and this was a mission where the entire fate of homo-superior resided. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to payback those humans for all the pain they had caused him, Logan was always up for a scrap. 

            Both Magneto and Psy seemed pleased with his decision, 'this mission,' said the former, 'shall take place tonight, we need to act fast, the time for waiting is over. Those taking part are asked to meet with us at the main Teleport Pad at 11:30pm, where they shall receive their final briefing before we go down. In the mean time I ask that you support these individuals fully, giving them whatever they want. They will need all your aid in the coming hours. Thank you. Meeting concluded!'

            This was obviously the call to leave, and slowly the mutant crowd began to shuffle out, talking amongst themselves eagerly. Logan ensured that he and Kurt were some of the first out, he was not eager to be alone with either Psy or Magneto. He didn't totally trust either of them, and Xavier just gave him the willies. 

            When they were in the corridor, he turned to Kurt, 'let's get back to your quarters,' he snapped, 'we need to talk.'

Readers Replies:

Yay! Loads of replies! I LOVE you ALL! :hugs everyone: now, more specific replies, or just thanks, depending on what you said in your review.

Mocla: Yeah, Evan did need whopping. So glad you liked the speech.

Me: Sorry about the Rogue Rouge, problem, I'm trying to fix it. :blush: And they'll be a bit more of Evan before I'm threw, promise you.

Scribbler: SORRY! I didn't mean to miss you out! I was a purely innocent mistake on my part, I promise. By the way, what *is* your favorite chapter? Just wondering.

Rain: As I've said before, Remy won't be in this. I'm very, very sorry, but he won't. On the other hand almost every other mutant (baring the Acolytes and a few New Mutants,) will come in at some point, or at least be mentioned.

Telle: Oooh, I have another limpet reviewer. I do so love you guys!

Joey: More Pie-pie and Wa-wa to come. Promise. 

Kiki5: Well, yes, being killed does tend to screw things up for people (: Why is Rogue blue? You'll see… you'll see… and you should have more faith in yourself, BTW. Any how, thanks for all review, as always, I'm sorry the cabbage disturbed you so much. Jeeze, think what you'd have been like if it had been a… carrot!

Gyuumajo: Nice to see you're still there. And I'm very chuffed that my fight scenes work, I'm never too sure about them… Ooh, I'm so glad this chapter worked out!

Rogue Pryde: Yep, Rogues in it, though she doesn't take a center role compared to, say, Kurt and Wolvie. If you like Rogue then check out A Family Affaire, most of that is told from her perspective… but yeah, that's enough advertising for now…

I hope you liked this chapter too, I know nothing much happened in it, this was just plotting stuff, but stick with it, the next chapter will be a little more interesting, I hope.

Speaking of which:

NEXT TIME: Why is Rouge looking (and feeling) blue? More about AU Kurt's past! Where is Mystique? And more amazing revelations! But no cabbage ):


	8. The Family

Notes:

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 8: The Family

            'If this is about the mission,' said Kurt, as he and Logan entered their room once again, 'then you shouldn't worry. You don't need any real briefing or special preparation, you're just muscle, like Spyke. No offence meant.'

            'This isn't about my place,' Logan grunted, pushing Kurt down onto the bed with one hand, ensuring he had the elf's full attention 'it's about yours.'

            'Vas?'

            Logan sat down besides Kurt, 'why are you on this mission?' he sighed.

            'I was there for about a year, I know some of the geography, and defenses of that place. Besides, someone has to keep the others out of mischief.' 

            Kurt winked at this, but Logan could see the worry, the trouble in his eyes.

            'But they won't,' said Logan earnestly, 'Kurt… this is going to turn into a bloodbath. Do you really want to be a part of this?'

            The smile faded from Kurt's mouth, the grief in his eyes, for a moment, became even more pronounced. 

            'Nein,' he whispered, 'but I have to go anyway, for other reasons.'

            'Such as…' prompted Logan, 'what happened to you there? Is this about revenge?'

            'Revenge? No. Revenge just breeds more pain and suffering, I'd never want that. No, it's about hope.'

            Logan said nothing, he merely stared at Kurt, his eyes willing the elf to give out more details. Kurt tried to fight that gaze, but found himself giving out, he resigned himself to the tale.

            'Fein,' he snapped, a little resentful, 'you want what happened, I'll tell you. See, I lived with my family, the Romani, in Germany for many years, then one day I was found out by the authorities. I'm a second generation mutant, and that makes me valuable, especially to the breeding centers. They'd just love to have their own little gang of third-gens. I was so valuable that I was worth the destruction of my entire Romani tribe by government forces. When they'd finished… finished killing them, they took me to the New York Breeding Center where they tried to… tried to breed me. Took them almost a year, but they succeeded. I learnt of it just before my mother and sister, my genetic family, rescued me, almost eight months ago. That rescue mission cost my mother her life, and my sister a lot of grief. I hate that place, more than anything, but I… I have a child in there, and I have to save it. I have to go back.'

            Logan was silent for a long while after this, unsure what to say. 

            'If we go in there,' he said at last, 'if you go on this mission, to rescue your kid, you may have to kill.'

            Kurt was shaking his head even as Logan spoke, 'nein,' he muttered, 'I won't.'

            'You might have to,' Logan repeated, 'it's going to be a kill or be killed situation out there, kid.'

            'I don't care,' returned Kurt, his eyes blazing in determination, 'I won't kill. If I did that, if I sunk to their level, I'd become like them. No better. I'd have let them win. I won't let that happen. My faith in humanity and God has been what been keeping me alive for the last few years and I won't lose that. I won't kill.'

            'Not even to save you kid?'

            Kurt turned away from this question, and remained silent. 

            Eventually he stood up, 'rest, recover your strength, I'll get some equipment from the stores, make preparations. I'll be back soon.'

            With this he teleported out, leaving Logan alone in the small room, pondering his companion and the mission they were about to undertake. 

            For about an hour Logan was happy to rest and consider recent events. 

            Recent events, however, were far from restful, so, unable to fine any sort of sleep, Logan abandoned this pursuit, and Kurt's quarters, to do some solo exploring. 

            If Asteroid M hadn't been a hive of activity before, it was now. Every mutant there toiled over some task or another, the range of powers and abilities in use was jaw-dropping, even for Logan. He guessed that, whilst some were indeed busy preparing for the upcoming mission, others were merely working to forget their anxiety, and the dreadful threat that loomed over them all.

            If that information had been correct, and something wasn't done to stop it, then every mutant, both on earth and around it, would be dead within the month.

            They wouldn't even be able to fight for their survival. 

            At lunch he met with Kurt again, who was rather flustered at his departure from their room.

            'Ease up, kid,' Logan had chuckled, 'I'm a grown man, and I've survived alone for years, I'm more than capable of looking after myself.'

            Kurt smiled self consciously at this, and apologized, before they went to eat a lunch which was, thanks to their assignment, of somewhat higher quality than their last one, though it still included cabbage. As they ate and talked, Logan found himself glad that the uncomfortable stress and vague anger from their previous conversation had evaporated. Perhaps Kurt had accepted Logan's words, perhaps he had put it behind him, or perhaps he was just trying to pretend it had never happened, either way he seemed to hold no grudges. 

            After eating they parted once again, Kurt to a short, private meeting with Psy, and Logan to 'get himself kitted up.' He was given directions to the armory where Rogue was handing out equipment for the upcoming mission.

            After several wrong turns, a few questions from passers-by, and general directional problems in the twisting metal corridors, he reached his destination.

            The armory was a large, impressive room, shelves covering every wall, tables laid out in the center, and on all of these were guns, armor, and other electrical equipment Logan couldn't pretend to understand.

            He entered just as another member of the mission, Spyke, was leaving, having completed his own business with Rogue.

            For a moment the two mutants stared at each other, both barring the others way. 

            After a few seconds, Spyke gave a curt nod, and stepped aside, allowing Logan to pass on into the armory, before leaving himself.

            'You worried about having him on the mission?' asked Rogue, seeing the wary look in Logan's eyes.

            Logan only grunted, his answer obvious.

            'Don't be,' said Rogue, 'Psy and Magneto have already talked to him about that. Besides, Spyke can be quite a bastard, but he's got some of his priorities straight. He knows this mission is important, he's not going to use it as any sort of excuse for petty rivalry.'

            Logan only grunted again, not entirely convinced.

            'So,' Rogue continued, 'you've come here to get yourself kitted up, right?'

            'Suppose I have,' responded the bladed man, 'not that I need it. Got all the weapons I need right here.'

            There was the familiar 'shinkt' sound as his adamantium claws unsheathed themselves from his calloused knuckles.

            'That's real impressive sugar,' said Rogue, 'but I don't reckon most of the guards will invite you to fisty-cuffs. They're gonna be armed with guns, and they'll be plenty of them. I don't care how many hits you take before you fall, you will fall before you get close enough to use them fancy knives of yours.' 

            'Alright then, give me a gun, "sugar"'

            Rogue smiled at the jibe, before handing him a largish, but light, gun. Fairly long in the nozzle, small in the body, various buttons were spewed across it's dark, metallic form.

            'Meet the X15,' said the southern belle, 'not the most powerful of our stock, but it's the one most of the Breeding Camp guards will be using, so when the power runs out, you'll know how to use one of their weapons too.'

            'When the power runs out?'

            'This is gonna be a long, hard fight, hon. These use laser beams, rip through skin tissue like a knife.'

            'Deadly?'

            'Like any gun, though it depends where you hit, of course. It is possible to just maim with them. You familiar with their usage?'

            'No,' sighed Wolverine, 'technology has come a fair way since I escaped Weapon X. What happened to good, old, bullets?'

            'Magneto,' chuckled Rogue, 'the government learned pretty quick how useful it was to combat the Master of Magnetism with iron and steel, so they switched to lasers when and where they could. Now, do you want a quick course on how to use this thing?'

            Logan nodded, and for the next half hour Rogue went though the various operations and controls of the gun until he felt comfortable with its use.

            'Nice piece of kit,' he commented, after blowing a sizable hole in a target Rogue had set up, 'is Kurt getting one?'

            'I wish,' sighed Rogue, 'but he won't take one. He's still a pacifist, still won't kill, not even after all he's seen… all he's been though. I suppose it's the reason why I love him so much… and the reason why I don't expect him to come back from his mission.'

            Such sadness came into her eye then that even Logan felt moved. e He reached out one, gnarled hand, to touch her comfortingly on the shoulder. 

            'You really do care for him, don't you?' he said.

            Rogue nodded, 'yeah,' she whispered, 'I love him as sister, as mother… hell, I think part of me might even love him as a boy. If you know what I mean.'

            'Mother?' echoed Logan, more concerned with that part of the statement than any other.

            Rogue sighed, 'You know the story of Kurt's rescue from the Breeding Center?'

            'In brief,' replied Logan.

            'Well, we were lucky, security was lax back then, and both me and our mother had powers useful for subterfuge. She ca- could change shape, and I can absorb people's memories, abilities, even powers through touch. It's why I wear gloves. Any how, we managed to get Kurt out, but while we were escape we got ambushed by some guards. We managed to take them out, but our mother got wounded, critically so. She knew she was dying, and that we'd need all the help possible to escape, she asked me to touch her. I did and I got her powers. Problem was, whether it was because of the length of contact, or the situation, I ended up getting her powers permanently, and her memories. Hell, I've even got some of her personality floating around up here.'

            'So she's still with you,' Logan muttered, 'still part of you.'

            Rogue nodded, 'she's still here. She loves Kurt as much as I do, loves him for his peaceful, good nature, something she never had, but she knows that it'll kill him. We both do, and we'd both give anything to change it, and anything to keep it as it is. If Kurt doesn't kill, he'll be killed. But if he kills… then he'll no longer be Kurt. Either way, we lose the one we love.'

            Just then, the armory door opened once again, and Kurt bounded cheerfully through, oblivious to the sadness within.

            'Speak of the devil,' said Rogue, her sadness dissolving from her eyes like dew in the morning sun. 

            'Hay, no snide comments on my looks!' mock scalded Kurt, he would have said more, perhaps, had Logan not thrown a gun at him. 

            Kurt instinctually caught it with his tail, but frowned when he saw what it was.

            'Logan,' he said, 'I'm not carrying one of these, you know how I feel about-'

            'Don't care,' he interrupted, 'kid, just because you have a gun, don't mean you have to use it. But it gives you an option. So take it, it'll make us all feel a lot happier.'

            'But Logan,' said Kurt, his voice almost whining, 'I can't let myself-'

            'Kurt!' Logan snapped, 'if you don't take that gun along on this mission, then I'm not going either! Take it, for your sister's sake, if nothing else.'

            Kurt gave a deep, heartfelt sigh, and nodded, 'but I don't even know how to use one of these things,' he muttered, looking at the weapon as if it was a slab of festering meat.

            'Not a problem,' said Logan, 'your sister here knows all about them, and there isn't much too it, either. Just point and shoot, preferably in the direction of your enemy.'

            'Alright then,' said Kurt, 'meet back at our room in an hour, ja?'

            'Sure,' said Logan, taking his leave before Kurt changed his mind. Taking one last, look back, he caught a brief smile from Rogue, as she began to tutor her brother in the gun's use. It was all the thanks he needed.

            If what he'd done was worthy of any sort of thanks, that is.

Reader's Replies:

Aw… only two of you now… me very sad… Still, the previous chapter wasn't the most exciting, Nor was this one, really… but the next one… well, it's super large and super good! Anyway…

De-Femme-o-da-Night: Whee! A new reader! Welcome! Welcome! Have hugs, have chocolate! SO glad you're enjoying this! So… now you know why Rogue's blue… is it a good enough reason for you? Hope you like the following chapter to! I love making people happy!

Telle: Glad you're still here… wish I knew what else to say… here, have a hug!

Come one, peeps, I'd like more than two reviews… well… I think I'll have more success with the next chapter. Speaking of which…

NEXT CHAPTER: Right, now that we've done with the happy, fluffy bits of this story, let's get onto darker things (; That's right, the mission starts and everything is hanging in the balance! RNR!


	9. The Price of Entry

Notes: An extra long one this time. Lucky you.

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 9: The Price of Entry

            The rest of the day seemed to pass as a blur. Busy preparations, the evening meal, swift goodbyes to friends, they all passed in one, long moment. Before either Kurt or Logan knew it 11:30 had arrived.

            So they stood with the others at the teleport pad, and no words were said between them. Psy and Magneto were also silent, or, if they held conversation, it was though the use of telepathy. The twins were the only people speaking, and they spoke to each other in quiet, fast tones, in a language that Logan did not recognize. He hazarded a guess that they had invented it themselves, a private, twin language. Not for the first time he wondered what their role in this mission was. 

            Spyke was late when he finally slouched in, when questioned by Magneto he merely muttered something about saying goodbye to Tempest, before taking his place on the Pad, standing as far away from Kurt and Logan as possible. 

            When he had settled himself, Magneto nodded to the mutant operating the Pad controls. The mutant, a scarred, blond headed man, missing an eye but with huge, white wings upon his back, prodded the appropriate buttons. 

            For the second time in Logan's life he and the room dissolved into Champaign bubbles.

            He was more than a little grateful when life came back into focus, this sort of teleportation was no where near as unpleasant as Kurt's, but it was unsettling, none the less.

            Besides him Kurt groaned softly, for a native teleporter using mechanical means was more than a little uncomfortable. 

            They had materialized in yet another sewer tunnel, though this one looked much newer and cleaner than the last one Logan had visited. The equipment, certainly, was free of all rust and dirt, it sparkled and glowed with the look of new, state of the art technology. 

            One of the reasons for this was the presence of Forge, who was, even as they arrived, tinkering with a machine Logan did not recognize, though he hazarded a guess that it wasn't part of the Teleportation Pad equipment. 

            'How goes it?' asked Magneto, stepping of the Pad platform.

            'Well, well, well,' muttered Forge, 'all is working, working order. Very well. Not detected either, silent as mouse, horrible mouse, silent, no noise, no one knows. No detection.'

            'Good,' said Psy, coming to stand next to his partner, 'make sure it stays that way. If that communications barrier goes down, we'll be up to our necks in reinforcements.'

            'Don't worry,' muttered Forge, 'whilst I'm here, it'll work, work, work, and work. Nothing breaks around me. Except me. Heh.' 

            Psy didn't seem to get any joke in that, he just nodded and joined his partner, who was standing just outside the room's exit. 

            'Follow me,' he balked, before entering the sewer tunnels, and they obeyed. 

            For a long while, Logan had no means of measuring the time, they slugged though the slimy sewage passages, following their magnetic leader, who had elected to stay out of the filth through flying. 

            Kurt was also avoiding a dirtying by crawling on the walls, and occasionally he would rush up ahead, check the tunnel for guards or traps, and then Jaunt back with reports.

            They came across no unexpected surprises, however, and soon were standing beneath another manhole cover, which Magneto easily moved. They climbed up the ladder, and found themselves in a large, concrete courtyard, surrounded by barbed wire and electrical fences on three sides. The other side, straight ahead of them, was a dark, imposing concrete building. The New York Breeding Center. 

            'I'm surprised there ain't any guards out here,' muttered Logan.

            'There are,' whispered Kurt, 'or rather were. Let's just say we arranged for them to be in other places tonight.'

            Logan might have said something more, when a sudden, familiar feeling overcame him. There was a flash of pain in all his nerves, and suddenly his eyes, nose, ears, even mouth felt like they had been stopped up with cotton wool. He found he couldn't project his claws.

            He glanced around to see that all the others, save the Maximoff Twins, bore a similar expression of discomfort, Spyke had even retracted his spines, now he just looked like a boy again.

            Logan knew what was up straight away.

            'Inhibitors,' he grunted.

            'Yes, but don't worry,' whispered Magneto, 'we knew and expected this.'

            'The defenses of this place,' began Psy, 'are significant, and have only increased since Kurt's own escape, and the beginning of the Mind-Link project. For a start there is a device which projects an inhibitor field around this entire complex, and the space around it. You can see it, up there, on the roof.'

            e HHe pointed to a strange, metal turret, a featureless cylinder of silver, perched on the flat roof of the Breeding Center.

            'Why don't we just blast it?' asked Logan, pointing his gun.

            'Because its casing renders it impervious to all laser blasts.'

            'What about smashing it? We still got arms and legs.' 

            'Also out of the question, and don't try, you wouldn't get close.'

            Logan raised a thick eyebrow.

            'Do you see those blinking, red lights, set in the eves of the roof? And those hanging by the door?'

            Logan strained his eyes, and caught sight of the flashing LED's.

            'They are motion detectors,' continued Psy, 'we're just out of their range, but if we get much closer, they'll target us with laser beams. We'd be blasted to pieces before we even got near.'

            'Alright,' sighed Logan, 'so we can't get near the door, but why didn't Kurt just port, or bamph or Jaunt or whatever us into the building? He knows the layout, we could have done it back in the sewers, where our powers were working.'

            Kurt was shaking his head, 'because the inhibitor field isn't the only barrier surrounding the Breeding Center. It also has an electro-magnetic force field inside it, too. It was originally designed to stop Pad teleportation, but as mine also relies on the magnetic lines of the earth it totally screws my direction. I could Jaunt, but I might well end up half way inside a wall. My teleportation will be no use, even when the inhibitor field goes down.'

            'So how the hell are we going to get in there?' raged Logan, throwing his hands in the air.

            Magneto smiled, 'that,' he said, turning to the twins, 'is where Yin and Yang come in. The genetic experiments performed on them had the side effect of making them immune to all inhibitor collars and fields. They still have their powers, and they can use them to overcome the obstacles before us. If they are willing to follow the plan I set out for them.'

            The twins looked solemn, as usual, but now a new weight seemed to be in both their eyes.

            'You ask a lot,' they said in strange unison.

            'I know,' murmured Magneto, 'but it is the only way, and it is vitally important. When it is over you can both go back to Asteroid M.'

            The twins looked at each other, and a decision seemed to be made. Wanda slowly moved away from Pietro, though their hands remained locked. 

            'Come back to me,' the white haired boy begged, just as their hands let go, and Wanda nodded, a promise in her eyes.

            The girl backed away from her brother, and as she did so she built up speeds. Logan, thinking that she would surly soon be in rage on the motion sensors, made to grab her, but was restrained by Magneto. 

            'Watch,' he bid, as Wanda suddenly started running.

            Then the motion sensors caught her, a laser fired.

            Wanda exploded into motion.

            From a gentle trot she accelerated into a fast sprint, and from there into super-speed. There was nothing that could be seen of her other than an indistinct black, blur, darting dexterously between laser beams. Soon it was if a giant web of crimson light had been woven across the courtyard, each laser seeking to entrap the fly that was Wanda, but this fly was not to be caught. 

            As she ran Magneto approached her twin.

            'Now,' he murmured, 'you must act whilst she keeps the lasers occupied.'

            Pietro nodded, and a look of great concentration crossed his pale features, suddenly a blue glow seemed to come from within him, and around him. The sapphire light grew stronger and stronger, forming eddies and currents in a strange, shifting aura which enveloped Pietro. Such was its power that it lifted him a few meters off the ground, his hair shifted in currents of energy.

            When the aura was so bright it almost hurt Logan's eyes to gaze upon it, the boy acted. 

            The dazzling luminescence surrounding him shifted, changed in its flow, turning into something more structured, more patterned. It coalesced round his arms, focusing, and gathering. Then, with the sound of cracking energy, it was released in a single, azure blue beam, straight towards the device projecting the inhibitor field. It struck with deadly aim, and soon the cursed machine was no more than a seaming puddle of metal and plastic. 

            The tingling feeling overcame Logan again, his senses unclogged, and he felt his power return.

            'I thought that thing was immune to lasers,' he said.

            Spyke allowed himself a sneer, 'that weren't no laser,' he said, 'that was a Hex bolt. Pretty neat, huh?'

            Before Logan could give lip to any sort of retort, Charles spoke.

            'Something's wrong,' the telepath whispered, his eyes fixed on the still glowing Pietro.

            And he spoke truly, the aura surrounding the boy was still there, and had lost all cohesion. Now it was a swirling, shifting cloud of blue energy, without pattern or reason, pure chaos, and instead of decreasing, it was only intensifying. 

            'Pietro!' called Magneto, 'it's over! Stop using your power!'

            'I… I can't!' the boy screamed back, his voice barely audible over the crackle of his energy, 'it's too much!'

            'Turn it off!' ordered Magneto again, a hint of desperation and alarm in his voice.

            'I can't! I can't control it! It's too much! It hurts! It HURTS!'

            Even as he spoke his power, already chaotic, went entirely haywire. Jagged lightning streaks of blue energy, so unlike the keen sapphire lance of before, sped out of his aura, scorching the ground around him, forcing them to leap out of the way, to take cover. 

            Worse still, for Pietro, those chaotic hex bolts also turned inward. Even though the brightness of the aura, Logan saw them strike his body, burning skin, devastating tissue, destroying him for within as much as they destroyed the world from without. 

            Pietro's desperate wails cut through the night, and through their hearts

            'Help me! Wa-wa, save me! WA-WA! WA-WAAAAAAA…'

            With this last scream his tortured voice finally gave out, and barely seconds later the aura disappeared abruptly. There was a dull thump as the burnt, pitted, and lifeless body of Pietro Maximoff fell to the ground.

            All was silence.

            For a moment no words were spoken, what could be said? Then a soft voice cut the air.

            'No.'

            Logan looked around to see Wanda, a statue in jet, immobile, her dark eyes caught upon the body of her twin.

            In all the chaos his attention had been fixed only on Pietro, he had been unaware of her actions. Whether she had been there a long while, had heard her bothers cries over the screech of laser blasts and the crackle of his hex-energy, or whether she had only just come now, feeling the death of her other half, he would never know. 

            'Wanda…' said Magneto, reaching out to her, and Logan was startled to see tears in his blue eyes. 

            But the girl did not reply, her eyes still lingered on her twin. When finally she tore them away, anger, as full a rage as Logan had ever witnessed, twisted her young features.

            She began to run again, run back to the building and the lasers.

            Once again she was a black blur of speed, but now she was faster than ever before, it seemed, and she was not just concerned with dodging the crimson energy rays, but with destroying their source.

            She moved so fast that by the time they saw the first explosion from a destroyed laser cannon and camera, she was working on the second, tearing them to pieces with her bare hands. 

            Yet this was a self destructive kind of rage, a consuming anger that drove her, they all saw it. 

            She had almost finished destroying the lasers, when Magneto came fully to his senses and put up a hand, probably building up the power to stop her. It was too late.

            As suddenly as she had started, more suddenly perhaps, Wanda stopped running. For a second Logan dared to think Psy had intervened, or maybe Magneto had performed some subtle trick, but it was not so. He could tell that by the way she clutched her chest. 

            Her power consuming her as Pietro's power had consumed him. It was almost as if they were never meant to wield their respective abilities.

            Her eyes bulged, fear filled her face, and she staggered forward a few paces, her stumbling steps kicking up dust. Logan knew with a strange certainty that she was trying to reach her brother, trying to be with him before she died.

            Though the journey was not far, she never made it.

            Her mouth opened, goldfish like, trying to form words but only a soft croak would come out. Her pupils turned heavenwards, and she fell, her heart exploded, broken, in her chest. 

            Magneto made to move forward, made to rush to his fallen children, but Psy held him back.

            'No Erik,' he said, 'there will be time for grief, time for vengeance later. Now we must follow the plan, or your children's sacrifice will have been for nothing!'

            Logan raised an eyebrow at that, his children? It made sense; certainly he and Pietro had possessed more than a passing resemblance. 

            Magneto seemed torn for a moment, but he nodded, grief still harsh in his eyes.

            Before any more words could be spoken, or instructions given, the large doors of the Breeding Center opened and like a swarm of hornets, guards poured out.

            No directions or orders were needed, Logan knew his task, knew that this was a kill or be killed situation. 

            Wolverine went into battle. 

            His targeting had ever been good, and he bowled ahead, clearing the way with his laser gun, still getting some minor hits for his pains, but also getting close enough to put his cruel claws into use. 

            His adamantium knives tore through skin, muscle, flesh and bone, he ignored the blood spattering him, ignored the cries of pain. It didn't matter, survival, that was what mattered, and all that mattered. 

            The others set to work as well; he caught brief sight of them, a few snapshots, between his own battles. 

            Magneto and Psy led the way, the former used the barbed wire fence surrounding the compound, ripping it out of the ground and wrapping it around a group of guards, strangling the life out of them. Or he used his power in subtler, but no less deadly ways. Tearing the iron ear-ring out of one guard's ear, and shooting it through his chest, a personalized bullet. 

            Psy was just as devastating, but in a far, far different way. He acted by proxy. Any guard that dared to fire upon him, or got to close, screamed, and fell to the ground, clutching their heads, madness appearing in their eyes. Some ran away through telepathically induced fear. Still others were controlled, their minds taken over by Xavier, forced to fight against their fellow solider. One man who had dared to scream abuse at the telepath was caught in his dark gaze. Moments later he was curled up on the ground, screaming of hellfire and demons, begging for his mother, and ripping out, literally ripping out, his own eyes. 

            The keenest thing Logan would remember about Psy's fight was the look in his eyes. That savage, cold, fire which was kindled in his dark orbs, the cruel smile which twisted his lips, it was more demonic than anything Kurt could ever cook up. Later, when the blood lust had died down Logan would wonder just what monster Weapon X had created. 

            Spyke, though no where near the equal of his elders, was still a fine fighter. In one hand he held a long, sword like spike, made from his own bones, in the other his gun.    Bone spikes were also flung from his back, impaling many a guard. All of these weapons caused carnage beyond count, and his dexterous flips and dodging, plus well timed bone-shields, allowed him to avoid most hits, though rays of energy grazed him a few times. 

            Kurt, predictably, had yet to use his gun. This, however, was not to say that he didn't play a part in the fight. His flips, jumps, and acrobatic tricks not only allowed him to avoid being hit, but let him attack the human soldiers in his own, unique way. So although not a shot was fired by him, nor was any blood shed, he still downed his fair share on soldiers. 

            That bloody battle outside the courtyard stretched on for an age for Logan, and it would take more than ten ages to describe it all in the detail it deserves. But in truth the fight, though grueling, gruesome, and brutal, was fairly short, as many such intense fights are.

            And besides, whilst Logan fought, whilst Wolverine was consumed in the thrill of battle, his attention and view point was not adequate to describe fully and coherently the over all flow of the conflict. 

            Rather for him, there was a fight, and then there was not. From fighting ten soldiers at once, from jumping and dodging the lasers of multiple opponents, he found himself without adversary. They had won. 

            For a moment none of them spoke, each man taking time to regain his breath. 

            Magneto, eventually, opened his mouth to say something, but before the words came out, another sound cut across the courtyard. 

            The blaring, harsh wail of an alarm sliced through the air, stinging Logan's keen ears.

            Both Psy and Magneto swore harshly. 

            'What's up?' asked Logan.

            'That's the alarm!' spat Magneto, 'and if it's sounding, then they've managed to send out for reinforcements. They've broken the communication's barrier!'

            Logan frowned, 'the one Forge set up? How?'  

            'Perhaps he's been captured, or interrupted?' suggested Kurt.

            'Or maybe he's a traitor,' rasped Spyke, 'maybe he was working for the flat-scans all along.'

            'Or maybe his gadget just didn't work,' said Psy dismissively, 'it matters not. The point is that it has failed, reinforcements are on the way.'

            'And this is a major problem?' asked Logan, still hazy on the details of the plan.

            'Yes,' sighed Magneto, 'the original plan was that we destroy the first wave of guards, then force our way in, killing what resistance we met, and without worry that anyone would block our escape. Now, however, with reinforcements on the way we'll face enemies from both sides. And the government will throw all they have at us, every military trick in the book. Hell, if they discover our plans, they might even use nuclear bombs.' 

            'So what next?' squeaked Kurt, desperation and confusion in his voice, 'is this it? Has the plan failed? Do we turn back?'

            'No,' said Magneto sternly, his voice filled with steely determination, 'I will not let my children's sacrifice be in vain. Besides, this is a matter of life and death, Kurt, we must try this mission, no matter how desperate, turning back is not an option.' 

            'We shall attempt plan B,' said Psy, his voice smooth and calm. 

            Magneto cast a concerned glance at his friend, 'are you sure?' he asked, 'the odds-'

            'Are much higher now we have Wolverine with us,' interrupted Psy, 'he will lead them.'

            'Um, what?' said Logan, 'sorry bub, but if you have plans for me, I want to know what they are.'

            'It's simple enough,' said Xavier, 'we want you to go with Kurt and Spyke into the Breeding Center and complete the mission, whilst I and Magneto stay out here and combat the reinforcements.' 

            Logan blinked, it kind of made sense. After all, Psy and Magneto, with their titanic powers would probably be the best to fend off any army attempting to retake the base. As for his own team… well… 

            He glanced behind him to look at the two boys. Kurt was in slight shock, the death of the twins had obviously affected him, as had the bloody battle. His golden eyes were wide, he wringed his three fingered hands and patches of bloody, other peoples blood, marred his clothing and fur.

            If Kurt had been lightly sprayed in gore, Spyke was coated in it. He held himself straight, his gun and weapon by his side, yet even he had not been unaffected by the carnage. Logan smelt to adrenalin on him, and saw… something in the boy's eyes.       Something different, something that had not been there when they had fought in the canteen the previous day. 

            'Are you sure?' he asked, 'I don't rate our chances.'

            'Logan,' replied Magneto, putting a hand on his shoulder, 'if you do this we have hope, not much, but still a little. If we do not even attempt this then there is no hope at all.'

            'I get your point,' sighed Logan.

            'Good. I have only one other instruction, if you reach Cerebro then contact Psy, just think loudly and he'll hear you. Can you do that?'

            'Sound easy enough,' Logan shrugged.

            'Good,' said Magneto, and turned to look up at the sky, nervously. Logan's sharp hearing caught a sound, the sound of helicopter blades. The reinforcements were on their way. 

            Somehow Magneto seemed to know this also.

            'They're coming,' he hissed, 'you must go, go now. We will hold them off for as long as we can, and if we can't then the last thing we'll do is give you warning of our defeat. Now go! And good luck!'

            Logan gave a half smile, as he turned away and began to sprint towards the Breeding Center entrance, jumping over the twisted corpses of the soldiers they had so recently dispatched, Kurt and Spyke hot on his heels. 

            'Luck,' he grunted, 'is for fools and small children.'

            'Which,' he added to himself a few seconds later, as he sped through the open doors and disemboweled the two guards just coming out of the compound, 'would just about qualify us all perfectly.'

Reader's replies!

Arekanderu: Hello! Glad you liked Rouge!

Kiki5: Well done with your guess! And yep, that is an awful lot of exclamation marks, but don't worry, I do the same sometimes!!! As for Kurt's kid, well, she will be making an appearance but more than that I can't (or rather won't) say.

De-Femme-O-Da-Night: I LOVE lengthy reviews, please don't' stop yourself from writing them! Nocturn? Well, if it was her then Wanda would be the mother, but as Wanda's on the Asteroid M too then… I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions. Kill Kurt? Whatever gave you that idea…. Heh heh heh…

S.queen: Aw… you're making me blush! It gives me such a warm feeling to think that this is in someone's favorite's folder. Please keep reviewing, BTW. And beautifully written? Thanks! I try my best… though I think I can do better. I like to think I'm improving with every piece I write. 

Guuumajo: I was wondering why you weren't reviewing. Bummer about your computer, you have my sympathy, I live of my computer… can't imagine what I'd do without it. And no internet connection doubly sucks! If you ever manage to catch up with this story, could you post a review at the end? Please? Good luck in getting your computer back, anyway.

Krazy Xanadu: WOW! All those reviews… :sniff: I love you, man! Hope you'll forgive me for not writing a reply for each review but I'd like some space for, you know, the story… (: Hope this chap satisfied you enough in the mean time. Don't forget to review!

And that goes for you all!

NEXT CHAPTER… It's a continuing fight through the corridors of the breeding camp… will all our hero's come through it unscathed? 


	10. The Warrior

Notes: An extra long one this time. Lucky you.

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 10: The Warrior

            'Left! Left!' cried Kurt, following his own advice and careening down the left corridor on all fours. Logan was amazed Kurt's memory was serving him so well, for to him all the white corridors looked identical. He had no time to ponder this, though, no time to ponder much of anything as they sprinted down those sterile halls, guards hot on their tail.

            Any element of surprise had long been lost, and their journey through the base had become increasingly difficult. For a time they had only to worry of the enemies in front of them, then a group of guards had come down a side-passage they had missed and had given chase. Their numbers had only swelled since then, now half a platoon seemed to be pursuing them down the twisting halls, running them ragged. 

            'Why,' gasped Spyke, 'don't we turn and fight them!'

            It was a question born out of frustration, and was a rhetorical one at that. Logan didn't dignify it with a reply. There were too many of them, the confining corridors put him and Spyke especially at a distinct disadvantage, this was not their territory. Besides, there were only two of them really, Kurt might be able to lend some support, but while his gun remained securely in its holster he was of little use in a serious fight. 

            'Not far to go!' called Kurt, panting a little, 'just one more turning, then down a bit, and we come to one of the security doors. If we jam that behind us, then we buy ourselves some time. Ja?'

            'What if it's already closed?' Logan yelled back, but the elf gave no answer.

            They had nearly reached that final turn when they were ambushed.

            A largish contingent of guards, about seven or eight in all, rounded the corner before them and let loose, full blast, with their guns. 

            Luckily all three men had excellent reflexes, they dove to the ground seconds before the guards fired, and so all narrowly missed being hit. 

            Logan was up on his feet again with a trice, and charging with berserker fury at his enemies. By unspoken agreement he took the guards to the front, whilst Spyke dealt with those behind. Kurt bounded his way between the two, doing what good he could. 

He climbed and bounced against the walls, at one point he managed to tear the guns out of two surprised solders hands. 

            'Bad boys,' he grunted, knocking them out with a few dexterous flips, 'shouldn't play with dangerous toys!'

            For Wolverine the fight had no such witty repartee, it was a long slog of pain. Sweat stung his minor wounds, already healing, screams and gunshots filled his ears, the scent of blood was overpowering, he even seemed to taste it in his mouth. 

            For him each battle, each kill, seemed to blend into one, no faces, no names, no identity, not even his own. There was only the fight.  

            Yet one event changed the course of the combat.

            Kurt, having such luck with his maneuvers on Logan's side, decided to try the same trick on the guards Spyke was battling. Running across the walls and ceiling he jumped down in the thick of the melee, and grabbed as many weapons as he could, whist kicking out with all his other free limbs. 

            But this time not all the guards were occupied with their other opponent, this time some of them had learned. One guard spun round, away from Spyke, and pointed his gun at the occupied and helpless Kurt.

            Before he had chance to pull the trigger, though, a bone spike slammed into the back of his skull, and his head exploded into a gruesome mass. 

            Yet this cost Spyke much, for a second guard, taking full advantage of the distraction, fired two well placed laser shots at him. Spyke saw these too late, he tried to dodge, but in the narrow confines of the corridor and the press of guards this was almost impossible. Never the less, instead of piercing his heart, the first ray of scarlet light cut into his shoulder viciously, and the second caught him on the hip, sending out a spray of gore. He gave an agonized scream and let out a barrage of bone spikes, striking down numerous guards and, indeed, nearly killing Kurt too.

            Luck, of a sort, was with him that day, though, for the fall and weight of their fallen comrades bowled over those solders behind him, buying the rebels some precious time. 

            And a good thing this was too, for, weakened by the injury, Spyke's legs gave way, and he fell to the ground also, but was caught by Kurt, who desperately tried to drag him to a safer place.

            'Down the corridor!' yelled Logan, dispatching the last of the guards in front of him, 'take cover round the corner!'

            Kurt's slender body hid athletes muscles and, though by no means a particularly strong mutant, he managed to carry out Logan's orders, moving as quickly as possible, Logan following behind, his gun trained on the recovering guards.

            As soon as they rounded the corner Kurt sat Spyke down on the ground, where the boy moaned in pain. Logan stood by the corner, popping his head around it, watching their recuperating adversaries. 

            'How is he?' he grunted to Kurt. 

            'I.. I… don't know I… verdammt, Spyke, withdraw those bones, I can't see your injuries well enough!'

            Spyke gave out another harsh gasp of agony as he did as Kurt requested, the bone plates slipping smoothly back into his blood coated, coffee skin. 

            Glancing back at him, Logan couldn't help but wince; both wounds looked very messy. 

            'How b-b-bad is it?' stuttered Spyke, trying to talk through his pain, striving not to pass out.

            'I'm not sure,' muttered Kurt, 'I don't think it's critical, but…'

            'He won't be able to run with that,' stated Logan, nodding to the gaping hip wound.

            'No kidding!' spat Spyke, biting his lip so hard he drew yet more blood, 'fuck! It… augh… it hurts… fuck… auhh!'

            'What do we do?' asked Kurt, looking up at Logan with large, liquid gold eyes.

            Deep inside him, Logan felt his heart-strings tug, and a weight of dread appear in his chest. He glanced back down the corridor, back to the press of guards. Their number seemed to have grown, they were shifting restlessly. With a sickening feeling, he knew what they must do, what he must say.

            'We gotta leave him,' he said.

            'What!' gasped Kurt.

            'What!' cried Spyke, 'you must be fucking kidding me! They'll fucking kill me! I won't stand a chance! You can't leave me!' 

            'We ain't got any choice, you can't move fast enough,' said Logan in curt, factual tones, this must be kept as unemotional as possible, they had to understand.

            'This is a sort of siege,' he explained in softer tones, 'a stand off. They hear us move, they get moving, or if they start to come after us, then we get moving. Either way this is going to be a chase, and we'll need all the speed we've got, we can't be weighed down.'

            'But why can't we fight them,' said Kurt, 'or maybe I could delay them while-'

            'Listen kid,' interrupted Logan, 'we ain't got much time, soon they're going to figure out they've got the edge and they'll come after us. We can't beat them in a fight, not just the two of us. And we need you, you're the one who knows his way round this place. Hell, I'd stay here myself, I'd fight them off, but you're going to need a fighter, without me you won't get far. That ain't arrogance or heartlessness, it's just fact. Spyke's the one that's injured, Spyke's the only one we can do without, we've got to leave him behind, or we'll all die.'

            'No!' screamed Spyke, 'you can't! I'll… fuck, you can't!'

            'Maybe I could try a Jaunt?' suggested Kurt, ignoring the increasingly hysterical Spyke, 'get us ahead that way?'

            'But you said the field here screws with your direction,' returned Logan, 'you could just as well end up half way though a wall. No, kid, this is the only way. The only way.'

            He stared hard into Kurt's eyes, and knew he had won the argument, he saw the pain and defeat in them. To be honest, it sickened him to the core.

            The elf slowly nodded, and Spyke knew that he was lost.

            'NO-NO-NO!' wailed Evan, 'please, for God's sake! Don't leave me! Don't let me die like this! 

            Logan pulled Kurt to his feet, and pushed him on his way, before starting to follow himself. But he had barely gotten a few steps before he felt a hand grip his ankle, it was Evan. He was desperate, tears streaked his face, clearing the gore that had accumulated there, showing soft, young, brown skin beneath. 

            'Please,' gasped the boy, 'oh God, please, don't leave me! You can't, I'll do anything! I'm begging you, I can't die like this! I don't want to die! I don't wanna die! Please!'

            'Sorry kid,' said Logan softly, and as tenderly as he could, 'we ain't got any choice. Sorry.'

            With this he managed to pull himself from Evan's desperate grasp and followed after Kurt, being sure not to look behind him. 

            Evan's despairing wails followed them, though, alerting the guards to their departure. Kurt actually paused in his flight briefly, and Logan had to grip onto his arm and drag him on.

            'Please!' screamed Evan after them, 'Kurt! Wolverine! Please come back! Don't go! PLEASE! OH FUCK PLEASE! I DON'T WANNA DIE! THEY'RE COMING! I DON'T- NO, NO NONONONONO DON'T, OH GOD, NO, DON'T…!

            His cries were cut off abruptly by the shrieking din of multiple laser fire. 

            They continued down the corridor, running like the wind, ignoring all pain, until they came upon the security door.

            It was large, forged of solid adamantium, and locked.

            'I-I have a device,' stuttered Kurt, 'Forge made it, it should work.'

            -Let's hope so- thought Logan, turning with his gun raised, firing at the guards now dashing down the corridor. He received some return fire for his pains, but aiming whilst running is a difficult task, and all their shots went wild.

            'Hurry it up elf!' roared Logan, letting off more shots.

            'I'm doing my best,' returned Kurt, 'these fingers were hardly meant for lock-picking you know, this- ah, got it!'

            There was a swishing sound as the impregnable door opened. Kurt darted through, and Logan followed, letting off a few parting shots as he went. As soon as he was through Kurt pressed the closing mechanism, and the door slid closed, the guard's mere inches away. So close, in fact, that one managed to put his arm round, just as the doors closed, neatly severing the limb, much to the agony and dismay of its owner.

            Logan ensured that the door would stay closed by smashing his claws into the electrical system, destroying it utterly.

            'Right,' he breathed when the job was done, 'where next elf? Elf? Elf?'

            Kurt did not reply, he had fallen to the floor, his back to the door, head in his hands. Tears dripped down his fur, already darkened by a mixture of sweat and blood. 

            -Blood, sweat and tears- thought Logan grimly, and knelt down besides his friend.

            'Elf?' he asked, 'we gotta move on.'

            'Spyke,' sobbed Kurt, 'Evan, he… he was a dickhead but… but… the humans…'

            'Yeah,' sighed Logan, 'I know.'

            'That's three of my friends dead,' continued Kurt, 'and we let them die, Gott, we let them-'

            'Had to elf,' said Logan, 'didn't have no choice, if we fail, everyone dies.'

            'I know,' choked Kurt, 'but… but… what are we going to tell the others?'

            'We'll tell them he died a warrior,' said Logan.

            Kurt looked up at him, tears still rimming his saffron eyes, 'is that a lie?' he asked, his voice hoarse with repressed sobs, but hopeful.

            'No,' said Logan, 'not in a way that matters, any how. But we've got to move, I don't want to depend on those goons not having some side passage or other trick. We've got to finish this, now more than ever. For your kid, if nothing else…'

            At this Kurt nodded grimly, and a new light, determination perhaps? Appeared in his eyes. 

            'Yes,' he grunted, 'yes, that is the next stop. Follow me, we'll go to the birthing chambers and maturation tanks. There both my daughter and the X-man should be, unless he's matured enough that they've moved him.' 

Reader's Replies: NOTE: This presumes you've already read the chapter above, if you haven't, don't read your reply!

Ricter: Well, you were kinda right… though it's not his demise which is gonna be the ultimate one… but more on that later. Glad to see you liked the trick I did with the Maximoff twins. Glad to see everyone liked that. 

Krazy Xanadu: I know I've written a good chapter when someone feels sorry for Magneto! I love the guy, myself, but can't find many other people who like him… still, I'm glad you found the chapter yummy, hope this one lives up to it. 

Kiki5: Expertly planned? I'm glad you think so, I do plan my longer, more fractured stories, it most certainly helps. Don't worry, there'll be more cameo's yet! Yes, it is a harsh world… but I don't think you'll be able to guess the end! (Or I hope not, anyway.) If you want to voice your guess, post it in your next review or send me a private E-mail. Thanks for the compliment about the action scenes, BTW, it's one of the things I'm least certain about in my stories. I really appreciate the praise! 

Scrawler: A new reviewer! Oooh, and it's on someone else's favorite list? GO ME! :does happy dance:. Seriously, I'm touched, as always, and glad that Kurt's character has come back to form. He's actually one of the hardest characters to write, because there are so many fics about him already, so it's pretty hard to write anything new, or gain your own, separate Kurt. I guess my Kurt is sorta a cross between LeDiz's Kurt and (of course) InterNutters. If any of you haven't read either of these authors, DO SO! You won't be disappointed, I guarantee it. 

Trunksblue: Another new reviewer! Thanks for the praise on my Logan writing. He's not one of my favorite characters, in truth, but he's as much fun to write as any. 

Gyuumajo: I'll give sympathy any time you want it! Yep, I switched their powers! It happened too them whilst they were being experimented on. I just sorta liked the idea… both of them, Pietro especially, has some very specific physical adaptations (e.g. friction resistant skin, exta powerful legs, e.c.t. So, undoubtedly, they could not survive having their powers swapped, their minds and bodies weren't adapted for it. Hence the meltdown. It was fun to do, and I wanted to start showing just how grim this story was, glad to see it worked!

HS: ANOTHER new reviewer. Yeah, I guess there is a plot hole there, but you've gotta forgive me that, I can't just have him smashing everything, can I? Besides, he might have his claws available to him but without his healing factor the lasers would have destroyed him before he got close to the base, right? Thanks for the praise, though. 

Darkarc: It's raining reviewers! Thank you! How could I kill the twins? Because I'm EVIL! Bwahahah! Did you like this chapter too?

Sailor X1: Oooh, so glad YOU reviewed, 'cos your stories rock! After I've posted this, in fact, I'm gonna go to Turning Point to look for new chapters. Glad you like this, even though it's AU, how did I come up with this stuff? I guess I'm just angsty and twisted! I'm also glad that the humor came through, I think it often adds a nice… sprinkling to a dark fic, a bit of contrast. Also happy Spyke and Logan's speech worked out well, do you think this chapter resolved it? And no, I'm not a genius, just very, very strange… 

Phew, that was a LOT of reviews! Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful reviews! I love you all! PLEASE keep them up!

NEXT: Kurt and Logan enter the maturation chambers in search of the X-man… and a certain other child… 


	11. The Child

Notes:  Rather short this time… sorry. 

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 11: The Child

            Their journey to the maturation tanks was surprisingly uneventful. It was as if they had left the main bulk of the guard behind them, and now only faced the odd stray soldier and a few scientists, most of which fled when they saw them. Those that did not tended to be put out of action by Kurt, and Logan seldom had to use his claws. 

            After only a few minutes they reached the maturation chamber. Kurt did his thing again with the locking device, and once again it worked, the adamantium door opening smoothly to reveal the cold, sterile maturation chamber.

            It was a large, rectangular room, the walls, floor, and ceiling white like the rest of the compound, but even more so, if that was possible. The air held a faint chill, and the only splash of color to be seen came from the blinking lights of some control panels on the far side of the room. The door they had come through was the only exit. Lined next to the walls were things that looked like horizontal fridges, but with numbers and names printed on the doors. The room was empty of personnel, military, scientific, or otherwise, Logan could only conclude that they had fled. 

            He moved closer to one of the tanks, examining the text more closely.

            "Alvers/Lee, B2839" said the bold, black writing, glaring harshly against the brilliant white of the tank.

            'They're in alphabetical order,' said Kurt, glancing over Logan's shoulder, 'The first name's for the male, the second is female, and the number is the code. Put that in the machine over there-' he gestured to a control panel on the other side of the large room, 'and you should get all the information you need about the parents, and the child.'  

            'So what's our kid under? What was the name of that red eyed boy?'

            'Uh… Summers. It will be Summers/Grey.'

            'Right, let's get a move on then.'

            Logan strode determinedly down the rows of maturation chambers, being sure not to glance at the names printed on them. He had to stay focused, and noticing a name he recognized wouldn't help that. Things would probably prove difficult enough as it was.

Eventually he came to the correct place, his eyes scanning the various tanks.

            Ah, there it was. 

            'Elf,' he called gruffly, 'your gismo work on these things?'

            'Should do,' replied Kurt, putting the small, black device on the locking mechanism of the maturation chamber. Then he frowned.

            'Everything OK?' asked Logan, not liking that look one little bit, 'don't tell me that old druggie has let us down again.' 

            'Nein, nein,' muttered Kurt, 'the lock-pick's working just fine, it's the lock, or rather lack of it. It's open already.'

            Now it was Logan's turn to frown, but he wasted no time. Grabbing both sides of the maturation chamber's lid he hauled it open. A blast of air, colder than ice, made him catch is how breath, some frost spontaneously developed on both Logan's eyebrows and on Kurt's face. As soon as the ice cold steam had dissipated the two mutants lent over the tank, so see what they could. 

            It was empty.

            Logan let out an array of choice words that would not normally be suitable for the hearing of a boy Kurt's age.

            'Where is he!' finished the bladed man at last.

            Kurt could only shrug, 'check the records,' he suggested, 'tap in the number on the computer consol, it should tell us. I think they've moved him already, probably to the containment cells.'

            'On it,' balked Logan, rushing towards the consol. He spent a few minutes trying to work the thing, computers were not his forte. 

            Eventually he worked out how to get into the records, but found his path blocked, a password was required. 

            'Elf!' he called again, 'you know the password to this thing?'

            'Ja, it's "offspring," Rouge found it out for us, though I doubt she… uh… knew of why… we… would, er… need it. She's an excellent infiltrator.' 

            Logan looked up from the control pad to check up on Kurt, he was sounding more than a little distracted. 

            The fuzzy elf was perusing the line of chambers carefully, a look of both concentration and frustration on his blue features.

            Logan glanced back at the consol, he tapped in the password and then the number of "X-Man," as his masters had so grandly dubbed him.

            'You were right,' he grumbled, 'he's already fully matured, been sent to the holding cells, luckily they're not very far away, but on the other hand they're bound to be more heavily- elf? Elf? You listening? What's up?'

            Kurt was frantically checking the maturation chambers, his expression now one of almost panic. 

            'It's not here!' he babbled, 'das kinder, is not here! I looked under Wagner and there's nothing!'

            'Well, maybe he or she ain't come out of the mother yet,' suggested Logan, trying to pacify Kurt somewhat, a panicking elf was not what he needed. 

            'But it's been longer than nine months!' protested Kurt.

            'So, perhaps it's late, perhaps you got the dates wrong, either way there's no use in worrying until we've checked out the holding cells, right?' 

            Kurt nodded reluctantly at least, though he still looked shaken.

            'Right,' said Logan again, coming out from behind the consol, 'then let's get to those holding cells.'

            He had not gone far when Kurt rushed away again, distracted by a sudden thought.

            'Elf!' he growled, 'we ain't got time for-'

            'I just had an idea,' protested Kurt, now quickly scanning the D section of the maturation chambers. Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he sighed, a long hiss of indrawn breath.

            'There you are,' he murmured, moving towards one particular chamber, 'seems *they* knew more about me than I did.'

            Curious, Logan moved towards the elf, wanting to see what had made him react so. When he saw the harsh lettering on the maturation chamber his eyes widened too. 

            'Dalkholme/Pryde, A2983"

            'Pryde,' whispered Kurt, 'so that was her name. I never even got to ask her… we… I didn't even talk, I… what happened to her?'

            For a moment Logan considered telling Kurt the foolishness of this action, they could hardly afford to spend time on family reunion, but he swiftly changed his mind. The pained, sorrowful look on Kurt's face, the depth of his voice, and the sudden dullness in his eyes, as if their inner light had been snatched away, more than prompted Logan to rush back to the consol and put the child's number in.

            He checked the records, 'says here she was born a few days back,' he said, 'mother died in child birth. She was too young, really.'

            Kurt could only nod, and he moved to open the maturation chamber, first unlocking it with Forge's device, then pulling it open, heedless of the cold icy steam that arose from it. 

            For a while Logan could see nothing, the icy steam blocking his view of both Kurt and any child. He dimly heard the sound of moving machinery, probably various pipes and life support equipment being removed. A few seconds later another sound, the wails of a crying child, filled the icy air.

            Kurt emerged from the frosty smoke screen, in his arm he held a little girl. The maturation chamber had done it's work on her, for she looked more like a six month year old rather than a child born merely days ago. Her eyes, the same color as her fathers but with a pupil and whites, darted about eagerly, when they weren't screwed up with crying, that is. Her fur was perhaps a little darker than Kurt's, and her soft hair, already showing, had a slight wave to it. She also had five fingers on each hand, and her pointed ears were less pronounced, but other than these small details she was like him in every way. 

            'She's very pretty,' said Logan gruffly, meaning it, but uncomfortable with the scene. Although he understood the emotions that had fueled Kurt's actions, the logic was more shaky. Did they really want to be lugging a small child with them on a mission upon which the entire existence of homo-superior rested? 

            But it was too late now, Kurt held the babe in his arms, cradling it lovingly.

            'Ja,' he whispered hoarsely, silent tears running down his fuzzy face, 'but she had no name, just numbers. That is wrong, so, so wrong. I shall call you Pryde, after your mother, it is all either of us can give her now, all she can give you. I know that pride is a sin, but how could this ever be a sin? How could you-'

            Here his voice dissolved, soft sobs wracked his body, though whether they were of joy or grief or something else entirely, Logan could not tell.

            'We need to get going,' he said, as tenderly as he could, 'the longer we stay here, the more time those guards have to get round those closed doors. Are you sure you want to bring the child with us?'

            'I'm not leaving her,' was Kurt's quick answer, a brief flash of anger burning away the tears in his eyes, 'I'll never leave her.'

            'Fair enough,' sighed Logan, backing away a little, 'but we still should get a move on. You know the way?'

            'Ja,' replied Kurt, shifting young Pryde in his arms, 'I know the way very well. Perhaps we can pick up some blankets on the way for Pryde, ja?'

            Logan could only grunt, he had a feeling a major mistake had been made.        

Reader's replies:

Hi guys, sorry for such a short chapter. Because I don't want more words spent on a my replies than on the actual chapter itself, I'm gonna keep this fairly short to? OK? Please don't hate me…

Trunksblue: Glad I surprised you with Evan's death, and thanks for the complement! 

Scrawler: Aw, sorry, I didn't mean to upset you too much… I guess Spyke just needed to die. I'm evil like that (:

Kiki5: yep, you've about got the tone of this tale down. It's about kids trying to be soldiers, among other things, and about what that does to them… that's where true grimness in a fic lies, sometimes. The loss of innocence. My idea was that, in the end, although Evan died on his knees, he died pleading for his life, and he died to save others, which makes him more of a warrior then he could have dreamed he could be in the canteen. Strange how these things work out, ne?

Sailor X1: Work on Turning Point, damn you! Work! Seriously though, I'm glad you liked the part where Spyke grabbed Logan's ankle, I wanted to give him a very non-heroic death. I'm glad to see it worked. Oh, and I do think awesomely is a word. Or my spellchecker does, anyway. 

Scratch It Off: Wow, I'm on a favorite list! GO ME! I hope you enjoy your inner argument, and I hope the child lives up to your expectations… it's more a device than anything… but you'll see what I mean later…

Krazy Xanadu: You have a Magneto flag? You rock! It's your birthday? Well, Happy Birthday! I hope your toe gets better soon! 

Telle: Sorry about the cliffhangers, but there are a few more to come yet. 

De-Femme-O-Da-Night: There is no greater complement than someone saying that your writing made them like a character they hated before. Changing such opinions is one of the reasons I write the way I do, I'm so glad I succeeded in this with you. Thank you. And please, don't burn my house down. I rather like it…

Gyuumajo: Very happy you like the grimness, it was what I was going for! Glad you're still here, even without your computer! That's dedication.

Darkarc: Oh yes, I'm evil. The humans? They're just being humans, I guess. Some of them probably like mutants, but the ones in power don't. I'm human, you're human after all, ask yourself, if this was happening now, would you have the courage and conviction to stand up for a load of super-powered, possibly dangerous freaks? If you can say yes, you're either lying, or a far, far better and more sure man than I.

Ulp… that was serious. As for Kurt's fate… well… we shall see… we shall see…

Thanks once again to everyone who reviews, keep 'em coming lads! I get 'em, I reply to 'em, and I treasure 'em!

Next Chapter! MORE cameos! MORE action! MORE angst and Kurt and Logan come one MORE step closer to reaching their goal!  Be there! 


	12. The Containment Cells

Notes: This one's quite mature… not too bad, but you have been warned.

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 12: The Containment Cells

            Logan was sure a mistake had been made when, in the distance, he heard the sound of many booted feet. The platoon of solders had obviously found a way round, or through, the adamantium door which had blocked their path.

            He told this to Kurt, who hugged Pryde closer to his bosom. 

            'What do we do?' he asked, 'how long before they find us?'

            Logan shrugged, 'they're a way away yet, but they'll probably know where we're headed to, and probably catch up with us soon if we stay here, how far away are the hold cells?'

            'Not far,' said Kurt, 'only a few more turns.'

            A few more turns later Logan's frown had only increased, the creases in his brow turning into deep fissures. He put a finger on his mouth, signaling Kurt to be as quiet as possible. 

            'There are solders up ahead, too,' he whispered, 'I can hear them.'

            Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but another sound took his words away. A brief, terrified scream pierced the air, and accompanying it was a single, blazing gun shot, which silenced the cry with a dreadful finality. 

            For a moment Logan was puzzled, surely this wasn't any reinforcements, but his bemusement did not last long, Kurt had figured it out, and his face was a picture of horror.

            'Scheisse,' he rasped, 'that's coming from the Containment Cells. They're killing the prisoners!'

            'Put the baby down!' balked Logan, this was no time for hesitation, 'we're going in!'

            'But-'

            'Elf, you want to bring you kid into a firefight?'

            The question was rhetorical, and Kurt quickly but tenderly placed Pryde down on the cold floor.

            'I promise I'll be back soon!' he whispered to her hoarsely, before bounding off on all fours towards the Containment Cells, Logan hot on his tail.

            They charged in head first, barely taking time to assess the situation. There were about ten guards, each heavily armed, each in the process of removing a naked prisoner from their cell. Several bodies, the corpses of other prisoners, lay on the floor. Two more, a blonde, teenage girl and a brown headed boy of about twelve, had already been taken from there cell and stood with guns to their heads. 

            What caught Logan's attention the most, however, was two men skulking at the back of the crowd. One was young, about Kurt's age, wearing simple coveralls and an inhibitor collar. He had two white forelocks in his brown hair, which gave him a passing resemblance to Rogue. The other was a dark headed man in a rich, tailored suit. Logan recognized him from the hologram in the meeting's chamber, it was Greydon Creed himself.

            What happened next occurred very, very quickly. The guards saw the two intruders and opened fire, both at them and the two prisoners they held. The blonde girl, however, took the opportunity to struggle against her guard, pushing his gun upwards, and saving herself. The twelve year old boy, though he also took the opportunity to escape death, was less lucky. For although he struggled, and by that managed to distract a few guards who would have otherwise been on target and shot the charging Wolverine, his flailing was for naught, the shot still found his chest. He fell to the ground in a quickly growing puddle of blood and the guard, his killer, turned his full attention onto the rampaging Wolverine.

            Wolverine returned the favor. His charge had been fast and brutal, straight into the ranks of the guards he had run, heedless of their firepower. He had taken several shots for his pains, one on his arm and another on his leg. Yet these would heal quickly enough, and he was skilled in ignoring pain and injury. He would have taken more, had it not been for both the boy's actions and a rather unconventional charge by Kurt. The elf had run not across the floor, but on the ceiling, catching the guards by surprise and withdrawing half the firepower from Wolverine. So he slammed into the solders, claws setting to work, gun forgotten at his side. 

            The shooter of the boy died first, his face ripped cleanly off, the adamantium claws piercing eye sockets and slamming into his brain. 

            The guard next to him also felt the taste of Wolverine's claws as his other fist smashed into his chest. 

            The blonde girl, meanwhile, had somehow managed to wrestle the gun from her captor and had turned it against him, the laser burning a gruesome hole in his neck, blood spurting out in a crimson fountain, she was lucky the other guards were too distracted with Kurt and Logan to take account of her. Probably a big mistake on their part.

            'Retreat!' called Graydon Creed, backing away with several of the guards and tugging the other teenager with him, 'retreat!'

            'Elf!' screamed Logan above the screech of gunfire and screams of the guards, 'don't let them-'

            The rest of his order didn't come out as one guards flailing elbow caught him in the throat. 

            Yet Kurt understood the unfinished instruction and, after knocking out the guard he had wrestled to the ground, he leapt to his feet and chased after Creed and the boy.

            Once again using the walls and ceiling, he quickly caught up with them, jumping down on them from above. He fell squarely on Creeds back, but the politician was lither than he looked, he let go of the other boy, who backed away from the scene, and after some struggling and rolling, forced the elf off his back. 

            As soon as he hit the floor Kurt twisted and pounced at Creed again, only to be blocked by of Creed's guards. The guard pointed his laser at the Elf, but Kurt grabbed his arms, twisting them until it became a battle of strength as to which way the gun would point. 

            Another moved to retrieve the white-locked boy, but was met by an infuriated Wolverine and a sudden realization of his own mortality.  

            A third soldier also made to grab the boy, but was held back by Creed 'no time!' he cried, running down the corridor again, 'retreat, retreat!' 

            The remaining two guards followed him, whilst Kurt dealt with the one he was combating. Just as his own blue arms felt like they were weakening, he remembered his tail, he brought it up and wrapped its length around the guard's neck, then began to squeeze. The guard gagged, his grip on the gun failed, and before he knew it his own weapon was turned against him. Kurt bashed the butt on the weapon into the guard's forehead repeatedly until he fell down unconscious.

            But by this time Creed was well away, there was a hissing of a door closing behind them, and Logan guessed that, even if they ran after them straight away, they would not catch up before they were lost in the maze of twisting corridors.

            For a moment the two mutants just stood where they were, taking some time to rest, then they remembered that they were not alone. 

            Logan turned towards the mysterious, white-lock boy, who stood silently, his eyes wide in fear, surprise and confusion, as if he just couldn't comprehend what had just happened, what was still happening.

            Logan caught a whiff of his scent and grinned, he'd smelt that only a few moments before, though it had been hard to distinguish over the smell of dry ice and cryogenic chemicals. 

            It had been the scent he had detected in the X-man's empty maturation chamber.

            'You the X-man?' he asked, hoping his nostrils hadn't betrayed him and praying that for once, just for once, luck had smiled down on them.

            'Yes,' said the boy, his voice trembling and high, 'what's going on? Is it a game?'

            'No,' grunted Logan, 'this ain't any game. I want to talk to you, later, will you wait here?'

            'Of course,' replied the X-man, as if this was the most absurd of questions. 

            -Right-, thought Logan, -despite how he looks, he's probably only a few months old, he's got a lot to learn about the world, and what he's learnt already was probably brainwashing-. 

            Another voice reached Kurt and Logan's keen ears, they turned to see that it came from the blonde girl.

            She was bending over the body of the boy, one hand on his face, closing his dead, open eyes; she muttered something which sounded like 'sorry Jimmy,' before straightening up and regarding the pair a cold, uncompromising stare. 

            'Who the hell are you guys?' she balked, 'did you come to rescue us?'

            'Sort of,' said Logan, taking time to look at her. She was indeed in her mid teens, though perhaps a little younger than Kurt. Her golden-blonde hair was short, cut to above her shoulders. She wore nothing but a barcode on one arm, a few scars, cuts, bruises, an old inhibitor collar and the scent of blood, fear, and old sex. Her sapphire eyes bore into Logan's, the rage and willpower in them striking him deep Those emotions had kept her sane in this hell, and now forced his own eyes to focus on her face and not other… more interesting areas on her anatomy on display. 

            'Well, you didn't do a very good job of it, did you?' she sneered as she nudged the small pile of dead prisoners with her foot. 

            There were about six of them, amongst their number was the red eyed boy, Summers, and a large, blue, ape like creature.

            'Hay elf,' called Logan, keeping his gaze fixed on the pile of corpses, 'is this guy related to you?' 

            Kurt regarded the blue man briefly, 'I don't think so… I hope not,' he whispered, 'but I *do* have a relation I should be getting back too.'

            With this he left, moving down the corridor to where he had left Pryde. For a second Logan wondered at his odd behavior, and then he remembered. Kurt had spent a year here, seeing those bodies, these prisoners; it was bringing back of lot of very, very nasty memories for him. It was a wonder he was putting up as well as he was.

            'You haven't answered my first question,' snapped the blonde girl, bringing Logan back into reality, 'who are you?'

            'The name's Logan,' he replied, 'the blue kid was Kurt, he spent some time here too. We're from the MLF.'

            'Well, my name's Tabitha Smith,' said the girl, a smile twisting her lips, 'or subject number 29130 if you prefer. You picked one hell of a time to come, what with Greydon Creed visiting. Did you come 'cos of that special project?'

            'You know about that?' asked Logan.

            Tabby shrugged, 'kind of, but only a little, other know more. I've not been here that long, compared to some of these wretches.'

            She threw her arms out, indicating the small cells which lined the walls, stretching out as far as Logan could see. 

            Each cell had a force-field, and behind each force-field was a mutant. Some looked out alertly, watching what was happening, some crouched in corners, staring out with wide, frightened eyes. Others just lay on their bed, gazing up into the ceiling. Even from this distance Logan knew those ones were lost, broken again and again until there was nothing left to break. 

            All of the prisoners were naked, though some had wrapped blankets around themselves, many bore the signs of abuse on their bare bodies, but they were all well fed.    It did not do to starve one's breeding stock.

            'So, what are you going to do now?' asked Tabitha, crossing her arms, more to show a posture of strength than to hide any nudity.

            'Not sure,' grunted Logan, wishing he had been better informed as to the plan, 'but letting the rest of your guys out will probably come next. The elf's got some gadget which opens locks.'

            'Well, why don't you ask him to use it?'

            'He ain't here, he's picking up his kid.'

            Tabby frowned, 'sure he's here,' she said, 'I can see his tail just peeking out from behind the door.'

            Logan turned and was surprised to see that she spoke true, Kurt's tail was just outside the door, why hadn't he come in?

            Logan strode towards the entrance, determined to have words with the elf.

He found him leaning against the wall, just by the door, with Pryde clasped to his chest. His eyes were closed and his breathing ragged, as if he was trying to contain some emotion.

            'You OK, Elf?' asked Logan, more than a little concerned.

            'Ja, ja,' replied Kurt, 'I'm fine, it's just… would you mind much if I stayed out here?'

            Logan raised a dark eyebrow, what was this about? 

            'I'm gonna need you to help freeing the prisoners, I need to use that gadget on the locks,' he said.

            But Kurt shook his head, 'you've got one too, in your belt' he replied, 'and I can lend you mine, show you how to work them, they're pretty easy. Perhaps you can get that blonde girl to… to help you.'

            'Why won't you go in, Kurt?' asked Logan, using his proper name, signaling that he was sincere, and worried.

            'I…' began Kurt, pausing to swallow, his eyes still tightly shut, 'I spent a lot of time in there,' he whispered, 'a lot of… of really bad memories. Perhaps I'm a cowherd, but… I just don't want to go back in there, don't want to take my daughter in there…' 

            Looking at Kurt then, Logan suddenly realized how young he was, not even an adult yet still clutching a babe, his babe, to his chest. An unwilling father before he even had chance to become a man. A young boy put through things no one should be put through. Yet he had come back to this place, to where he had faced such suffering, to save a child he never wished for, to face his fear, his past. He had done so in every way that counted now, there was no reason to push the point

            So Logan found himself unable to argue. Truth to tell, he himself did not wish to re-enter that room, lined as it was with the dead eyes of prisoners, broken until there was nothing left to break. But he had a job to do, he couldn't just leave them, they had to be freed before the soldiers behind them reached the Breeding Chamber or a massacre would surely take place. Still, with the help of Tabby, an extra lock-pick, and some instructions there was no real reason why Kurt needed to be dragged back into that nightmare room. 

            'Well,' Logan sighed, 'you wait here then, keep an eye on the X-man, just teach me how to use those damn gadgets.'

            Danke shoen,' said Kurt gratefully, and he ran through the instructions quickly, all that was needed was to put the lock-pick on the lock, and turn the dial until the locking frequencies of the lock and lock-pick matched. 

            'It should also work on the collars,' Kurt finished at last, 'they're all fairly old models, shouldn't have that electric shock thing yours did.'

            Logan nodded curtly, and strode away with both his and Kurt's lock-pick, eager to get the job done and get out. 

            Tabby proved to be a quick study, luckily, and the lock-pick did indeed also work on collars. The next few minutes were spent desperately freeing the captives from both their cells and collars. Due to the lack of time they concentrated on those which were still alert and spirited, the ones whimpering in corners, and those with the dead eyes they left in their cells. Something in Logan told him that many of those would never leave, trapped as they were in their own, private hell. 

            When about five other prisoners had been set free Logan knew it was time to depart.

            He pressed his own Lock-pick into Tabby's hands, but retained Kurt's.

            'We've gotta get going,' he balked, 'there are guards still behind us, and we should try to catch up with Creed and his goons. Can you manage things down here?'

            'Sure,' said Tabby, 'do you want some of us to come with you?'

            Logan shook his head, 'no,' he replied, 'better to have a small group, we'll be more maneuverable. But if those solders following us should reach here, I'd be grateful if you could do something to slow them down.'

            A wicked grin crossed Tabby's face, and an evil glint came into her eye. She lifted a fist and a glowing ball of energy appeared, as if by magic, besides her.

            'Be a pleasure,' she cooed, 'more than, in fact. I can't tell you how much we've   wanted to beat those fuckers into oblivion for what they did to us!'

            An evil smile crossed Logan's face at this. For the first time he actually felt a little sorry for the guards behind them.

Reader's Replies:

Scratch It Off: Wow, you're gonna draw a piccie! Ooh, Ooh, can I see it? Can I? PLEASE!!! Scan it and send it to me via my E-mail if you can! How's the two fingered typing thing going? When you've finished trying that one out, why not go round wearing red tinted glasses, or wearing gloves all day, or maybe in a wheel chair! Ooh, the possibilities. Let me know how your experiment goes, and what you think of this chapter, OK? 

Gyuumajo: Here's more. Happy now?

Darcarc: OK, Mr Demon. Yeah, demons are allowed to hate humans all they want! Go you! Unless you just LOOK like a demon, like Kurt, then things are different again. 

Ricter: The answer to how Xavier and Mags are will be answered soon. I'm glad you felt that way about Evan, it was a waste. It's all a waste. There is generally very little in the way of heroics in conflict. As for Kurt… we shall see… we shall see…

Sailor X1: Aw, shucks… sorry about Lance not having a big part in this, and the same goes for Kitty (for all of you which like her,) but in something like this I just couldn't afford to give everyone a major part, not without having it ramble on forever. I had problems finishing this, anything longer and I'm not sure… By the way, I know you're big into the Brotherhood, so why not try out Shattered Mirror, another story of mine, all about the boys and Wanda. It's not as plot driven as this but I think you might like it. Just a suggestion, and I apologize for the gratuitous advertising.

Scrawler: Glad that angst works! I like writing angst… even  though I don't let myself experience it much. I'm also glad you like the Kurt/Kitty angle, an obvious pairing, I know, but that's the way it works. Yeah, taking the baby along isn't the best idea in the world but hell, could YOU separate them?

Kiki5: Thanks for the complement about Cameos, I wanted to include as many of the main characters as possible, but that just wasn't feasible, so some of them are just mentioned. What did you think of the Cameo's in this chapter? 

Trunksblue: Now, my dear, surely you must have realized by now, in this fic, no one is safe…

Next chapter... is the conclusion of this twisted tale! The Choice!

'Nuff said. 


	13. The Decision

Notes: The last chapter!

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+ 

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the top this time. Don't want to disrupt the flow of the story...

Readers Replies

Scrawler: See, Kurt still has the baby! Yay! I'm also happy you liked Tabby, she just kinda fitted with that role… 

Kiki5: Thanks for all your long reviews, I've really appreciated them. Yeah, die guards, die! Yep, that was Jamie… poor little guy, I had to include him *somewhere.* The cameo's were fun, some just popped out at the last moment, like those written on their children's maturation chambers… I kinda liked having everyone in there, and I would have liked to tell each of their stories but, alas, there just isn't enough room. And yes, it has to end. I think, as with many things, it is better that it ends sooner with a real bang than drags on and on and on and on… 

Ricter: Yep, I got your review, all four of them (: Yep, the title will be explained in this chapter… I think it's a fairly fitting title too… it's what started this idea off. I just pictured the last scene and… yeah. PLEASE tell me what you think! 

Darkarc: Like most people, if I don't immediately know the person's gender, I presume they are a 'he.' It's either that or refer to you as 'it,' which is hardly polite. Thanks for being understanding, anyway. Sorry this update was a little late, I had major internet problems. The entire of my area had major internet problems. Major bummer. Glad to see you're still doing the demon thing!

Trunksblue: Thanks, again I liked putting in small cameos. I do tend to be killing off  a lot of people in this story, don't I? I wonder if the trend will continue…

Krazy Xandu: I'm sorry Kitty wasn't in it more, I do quite like her and all, she just ended up with a very small part in this story. Maybe my next one will feature her more. I'm happy your toe got better, and that you're still reading this, I love every reviewer!

Gyuumajo: Yep, and now you can finish reading this fic as you started it, on you own computer. Go you!

Sailor X1: Thanks for reading Shattered Mirror, and thanks for the complement. I do my best :blush:. Oh, I'm sorry to you, (and everyone else) about the late update, see above for my reasons. After I've posted this, I'm gonna check on Turning Point! Hey, we're probably finishing at just the same time! Scary, huh? 

And Now… 

Chapter 13: The Decision

            When he returned to Kurt, he found him taking quietly with the X-man. The two seemed to be in some deep conversation, or rather interrogation, as Kurt kept muttering questions at the boy, who seemed to be co-operating fully.

            'What's up elf?' called Logan, as both query and greeting.

            'I've been talking to our friend here,' Kurt replied, gesturing to the X-man with one, three fingered hand, 'he's been most helpful.'

            'How so?'

            'He's told me much about Creed's plans. What did Creed say he wanted to do, mein Freund?'

            'He wanted to put me in the special chair,' replied X-man, 'the one which makes me feel people's thoughts a lot better, he said he had to even though I wasn't trained fully, that it was our last chance. He said if that failed then he would… would… X… er… X-term-nate me and the chair. What does X-term-nate mean?' he turned back to Kurt, 'you said you'd explain.'

            'Exterminate means get rid of,' replied Kurt, 'something we cannot allow to happen.'

            'Why would they get rid of me?' asked X-man innocently, 'I've always worked well, just as they asked, there's no reason to X-term-nate me, I haven't done anything wrong. Have I?'

            Logan snorted, 'don't worry kid,' he said, 'nothing's gonna happen to you now, not if we can help it. The question is what are we going to do with Cerebro? Presuming that's what the 'chair' is. Is our mission over now we've got the kid?'

            Kurt frowned thoughtfully, shifting Pryde in his arms, who grizzled slightly and continued to suck on a lock of his indigo hair.

            'I'm not sure,' said the elf at last, 'I think we should follow Creed, it sounds like he's going to destroy Cerebro, probably though some sort of self-destruct program. If that's true then we don't know how severe it might be, it could destroy the entire base, us and the prisoners included. We can contact Psy telepathically as we run, perhaps get some clearer orders.'

            Logan couldn't hide his grimace, he still didn't like the idea of telepathic communication, but needs must as needs must. He stretched out his body, seeing how injured he was. The laser shots from earlier had healed somewhat, though they still smarted, he doubted they would slow him down.

            'Well,' he sighed, 'which way is it, Elf?'

            Kurt shrugged, 'how should I know?' he asked, 'Cerebro wasn't here when I escaped, it's X-man who's our guide now.'

            Logan turned to the boy, still staring at them with wide, anxious eyes. 

            'After you,' said Logan, gesturing to him to lead.

            'Why should I help you?' asked X-man, a gleam of doubt appearing in his eyes for the first time, 'how do I know that's not a wrong thing?'

            'The other guys were going to get rid of you,' explained Logan, 'we're not. It's a simple case of self preservation.'

            X-man nodded at this, his mind made up, and he started to lead the way.

            'I've done this many times,' he said, conversationally, 'they often took me to the chair, so I could practice my powers. I have a lot of powers, you know, when the collar isn't on.' 

            'Yeah,' grunted Logan, padding along easily behind the boy, 'well, get a move on, we can't dawdle. Here, we'll stop for a few seconds, I'll take that darn thing off.'

            With a few twists and turns of the lock-pick gadget the collar fell to the floor with a 'clunk.' Logan felt a tingling sensation for a moment, as if some mighty power had been set free. 

            'Cool,' said X-man happily, 'now I can sense where Mr. Creed is, too. That'll make things easier. Now we can run!'

            With this, and a boyish laugh, X-man increased his speed, following the twisting, mazelike passages as if he knew them off by heart. Despite his reasonable speed Logan had little trouble keeping up with him, he turned to Kurt to make sure the same was true for him, loaded down with a baby as he was.

            Kurt, despite the child, was having no problem keeping up, though there was a look of concentration pasted across his face.

            For a second Logan wondered what was up until-

            _Yes Kurt? What is your mission report?_

            Ah. Psy. Telepathic communication, what fun.

            _We have liberated the X-man and some other prisoners,_ said Kurt's telepathic voice, and Logan came to realize that he was in a three way mind link, _Spyke is… out of action. Graydon Creed is also here, but escaped. We believe that he is headed towards Cerebro and it intending to destroy it. How goes things with you? What are our next orders?_

            _We are holding our own_ came Xavier's reply, _for now at least, but that is unimportant. It is imperative, utterly imperative that Greydon Creed does not destroy or harm Cerebro._

            _Why?_ asked Logan, trying to think as loudly as he could, _as long as we have you and the X-man, no harm can come of it. Better to have the thing out of action._

            _No_ came Xavier's response, and through the link Logan got the impression he was most concerned, _trust me, I have… plans for it. Once again I urge you to ensure that it is kept intact, no matter what the consequences. Contact me again when Cerebro is yours._

            With this the feeling in Logan's head disappeared and he knew that Psy was no longer there.

            He exchanged a brief glance with Kurt, both of them wondering what that was about.

            'Never mind,' said Kurt at last, 'we'll do as he asked. There must be a good reason, after all.'

            Logan shrugged, and continued following X-man.

            After a few seconds the boy cried out, 'here we are!' jubilantly, careening round the final bend.

            Logan pulled him back just in time to miss being shot by the guard, who was standing by the huge mettle door at the end of the corridor, the door to Cerebro. 

            Once X-man was safe, Logan dashed round the corner, firing his own gun, catching the guard on his shoulder. The man slowly slumped to the floor, leaving a long crimson stain on the wall behind him. 

            They rushed to the adamantium doors, Kurt took out the unlocking device, putting it against the control pad by the door. He turned the dial a few times on it, then jumped back in shock, a brief cry escaping his lips. Logan's keen nostrils detected the scent of burnt fur and melted plastic.

            'Verdammt!' swore Kurt, 'the control's lock-pick proof and it's got another electrical field to prevent tampering! We'll need the security code!'

            Logan rounded on the X-man, 'you have it?' he growled, he was unsure of how much time they had.

            'No,' replied the boy, 'but he does.'

            He gestured to the guard whom, Logan only just now noticed, was still breathing. 

            'I could get it out of him, if you wanted,' suggested the boy casually, and Logan nodded. Time was of the essence, they could not afford to ask questions or be softhearted about anything. 

            The X-man bent over the injured guard and put his hands on the man's temples. After a few seconds the guard's eyes popped open and he began to scream, a dreadful, tortured wail that could probably be heard all round the base. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The guard's eyes rolled upwards until only the whites showed, a last, rattling gasp escaped from his chest, and he died. 

            'I've got it,' said X-man, 'but I think I pushed too hard and broke him. Sorry.'

            'Don't worry about it, kid, just tap the code in and get us in there.' balked Logan, though Kurt's eyes remained fixed on the guard and the expression of horror which still lingered on his dead face. 

            The X-man nodded and did as he was told. A few seconds later the door to the Cerebro Chamber smoothly opened.

            It revealed the sight of Creed, poring over the controls of Cerebro, and his final guard. That last guard swung his gun desperately towards Logan, but Wolverine, his reflexes honed beyond military training, was by far the faster. Before the guard's finger could even tighten on the trigger of his gun, Wolverine had brought his claws up and sliced them neatly across his neck. For a second the guard stood there, ultimate surprise on his features, and then his body fell to the floor, as did his head, separately rolling away from it for a few meters.

            The X-man started to enter the room as well, but was pushed rudely back by Logan. 

            'Stay out of here!' he ordered, for he was unsure of where exactly the boy's alliances would linger, once he was reunited with his old master.

            Kurt, still holding his daughter in one arm, went straight for Creed. What exactly went though his fuzzy blue head Logan could only guess at. All he knew was that, for the first time, Kurt reached for his gun with his free hand and drew it. He pointed it squarely at Creed, and in a voice that shook almost as much as the hand which held the gun, he balked, 'stop! Or I'll fire!'

            Creed did as he was told, his own eyes filled with fear as he regarded Kurt, his hands still hovering over Cerebro's controls.

            'So,' the politician muttered, licking his thin lips, 'you've come, you think you've won. But no, no, I know you'll fire that thing anyway. I won't let you win.'

            His hands, shaking as much as Kurt's, began to shift towards the computer controls once again.

            'I will shoot!' repeated Kurt, his own voice desperate. As he spoke Logan began to slowly move himself to get a better view of Creed and the controls with his sharp eyes. 

            'I know,' replied Creed, 'but that doesn't matter.'

            'You'll never do it, bub,' spoke up Logan, having gotten a better view, 'I can see the machine from over here. You've got another eight code numbers to put in, you won't finish them before my friend finishes you. Or before I finish you.'  

            With this statement Logan brought up his own gun and, unlike Kurt, he wore an expression which clearly told Creed that he was more than willing to use it.

            Creed only snorted though, a look of bitter humor on his lean face, for all the sweat that dribbled down it.

            'It doesn't matter,' he repeated, 'it's the only choice I've got. The only chance we've got. I've have to try.'

            Kurt and Logan both shared puzzled looks, what was the mad man babbling on about?  

            'Don't tell me you don't know!' laughed Creed, almost hysterical now, 'don't think I haven't worked it out.'

            'Well,' sighed Logan, brining his free arm up to rub his head thoughtfully, 'I hate to reveal a weakness, but we actually don't actually have a clue what you're going on about. Care to let us in on the joke?'

            'Come on!' ranted Creed, 'you can figure it out! You've got what we had, the most powerful telepaths on the planet and this machine. I know what Psy is planning; he's going to use it the same way we were going to!'

            'He's going to use it to kill all mutant kind?' asked Kurt unbelievingly; perhaps this man really was insane.

            'Fool!' screamed Creed, 'he's not going to use it to destroy mutant minds! He's going to use it to find and destroy human minds! He's going to wipe us out! You're going to wipe humanity out! Filthy freaks!'

            'No,' muttered Kurt, 'no… he wouldn't do that, he would…'

            'But he did seem very keen that Cerebro wasn't damaged,' muttered Logan, and they exchanged brief glances.

            At that moment they both knew that Creed was right, that he spoke the truth.

            'Oh mein Gott,' gasped Kurt, 'I… I never thought… would he really do it?'

            Logan found himself able to only nod, one look in those Xavier's strange, mad, pain filled eyes was all the proof and confirmation needed. 

            'What should we do?' asked Kurt, 'how do we stop them?'

            'Should we stop them?' added Logan, 'kid,' he continued, 'Psy has a good reason for doing this. This could end the war, end the suffering.'  

            'Ja,' said Kurt, 'but all those people Logan! How… I don't know… Logan, what should we do?' 

            For a moment Logan was stuck for words, and then something hit him. Perhaps it was an epiphany, perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was something else. Hell, for all he knew it might have been some mental prodding from the distant Psy. Yet he knew what to say, knew with a strange, sad certainty that this was not his decision to make.

            'Kurt,' he said, 'I don't know, I can't make that decision, only you can.'

            Kurt briefly turned towards him, his golden eyes wide in shock, 'vas?' he asked.

            'Elf,' Logan continued, 'you're the one with the gun, with the child. You're the one who's never killed, you're the one who's been through hell, and you're younger than me. You're the one who can shape the world, not me. My time, Psy's time, Magneto's time, that's past, over. It's your turn now, your world to shape. You've got to make this decision.'

            'But…' stuttered Kurt, 'but how can I make it… it's too hard, I-'

            'No son,' soothed Logan, 'it's simple. You've got two basic choices. You can shoot Creed, stop him from destroying Cerebro, and then Xavier or X-man, can use the machine to wipe out humanity. I'm not going to pretend that's a good thing, it'll be a genetic holocaust, but it will mean freedom for mutants every where, for many years to come, it'll bring about a new age. Or we can let Creed live, or let him destroy Cerebro at any rate. If that happens then human kind will be spared, but the fight will continue, and it may never end. Human and mutant killings, the torture, the slavery, they'll continue for a long, long time, because hatred is a strong force. Perhaps more will die this way, perhaps less, I don't know. What I do know is that we'll probably never get a chance like this again, and whatever choice you make you're child, and your children's children will grow up with. You're call elf, your time, not mine.' 

            Kurt was silent, he just stared at Cerebro, stared at the cowering Greydon Creed.

            'Kid,' begged the human, 'kid, please, I know we've done wrong, I know you're kind hate us, but we can do better. We don't deserve extinction, you can't just-'

            'Shut up!' roared Logan, 'this ain't your choice, and it ain't mine. This ain't our world any more, it's his. Let him do right by it.' 

            Kurt stood there silently, and the time that passed seemed a thousand life times. No, a billion lifetimes, one for each mutant and human on the planate. All were in his keeping, all would depend on this one, eternal moment.

            Behind him he felt the eyes of those no longer here, staring at him from the afterlife. Pietro, Wanda, Spyke, and the brown haired girl, the mother of his child, whose full name he would never even know, who would never see her daughter grow up.

            Yet in front of him was the human, suddenly small, fearfully, weeping pitifully. It was like watching a small, spoilt child who has been caught doing mischief and now knew that strong punishment is on the way from the parents he had ignored.

            This was not just about the dead, or the living, it was about him, about Kurt Wagner, and what he had, here and now. 

            In one arm was his daughter, warm, soft, loving, her eyes wide, staring at the world and at Creed in particular. She would see all, and be shaped by it. 

            In the other was his gun, hard, cold, but real, oh so real. 

            Kurt Wagner made his choice.

            'Watch and learn, mein lieb,' he whispered to his baby daughter as his finger tightened on the trigger, 'watch and learn.'

            The End.

e'sY

OK. That's it. The end of the longest Fanfic I've ever written. Well, what did you think? If you liked this even the smallest bit, if it gave you even the merest smidgeon of pleasure, please, please, reward my hard work by posting one, small review, especially if you comment about what you thought of the ending. Please. I'll love them and treasure them always. 

To conclude, I'd just like to thank…

My reviewers, for obvious reasons. You renew my faith in myself as a writer every day!

InterNutter: For hosting this challenge and seducing me into the world of fanfiction. Visit her site now if you like Kurt! 

And finally Scribbler, author, beta reader, reviewer, and all round great girl! Not to mention the person who started this all off… whether this is a good or bad thing I'll let you, gentle reader, decide…

Bye! - Yma


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